A Really Long Year
by NotSoAwry
Summary: Hermione is at Hogwarts for her NEWT year. Ron is home at The Burrow, and working for George. This follows Ron and Hermione and assorted friends/family from September 1998 to June 1999. Rated M for later chapters.
1. 1Sept1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

5:15pm, September 1st, 1998.

Dear Hermione,

I hope you got to Hogwarts OK. It's really quiet in the house without you.

But you'll never guess who was waiting for Harry when we got back out into the main part of Kings Cross.

Bloody Dudley Dursley!

So we had a coffee with him, talked a bit and he apologised to Harry for being such a wanker when they were growing up.

He said spending the year with Hestia and Dedalus changed his ideas about "our lot" – and before that, you remember the dementor attack on him and Harry (how could you forget?), the dementors made him "be Harry" or something (have YOU ever heard of that happening?) and it made him think. So yeah, I suppose the dementors are good for something.

Anyway, he seems like an alright bloke now (a bit quiet though, but maybe because he was uncomfortable). So there you go.

After Dudley went back to work, we stopped in at the Leaky for a butter beer (George gave me the day off) and then came home. Yeah, really exciting stuff.

How was it on the Hogwarts Express? Did many go this year?

I don't have much else to say, really. Write back soon, yeah?

I love you!

Ron


	2. 2Sept1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

6:30pm, Wednesday 2nd September, 1998

Gryffindor Common Room

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Dear Ron

I can't tell you how surprised I was to see Pig at breakfast, or how happy!

Hogwarts news first.

The trip was tolerable. Not many of our original year came back; just Neville, Dean, Seamus, Hannah, Ernie, Anthony and Terry. I didn't much like being on the Hogwarts Express without you (and Harry, of course), but for the first two hours I was busy with Head Girl duties.

There are a lot of Ginny's year (gosh, it's my year too now) missing as well, so we've got the 7th year girls dorm to ourselves.

Realistically, I think the school is running on about 60% student population – a lot of parents have decided to take advantage of the option to keep their kids at home with them, although we do have a respectable number of first years.

I think the biggest surprise was that Dennis has come back. He's a lot quieter now, as one would expect – although he has Colin's camera, and he's not afraid to use it. Apparently he had to put up quite the fight for his parents to let him come (and who can blame them, really?), but he said Colin would have done the same thing – so in the end, they relented.

Also in the category of highly surprising is the fact that this year's DADA Professor is Sturgis Podmore! I really hope that now Voldemort is dead, the curse has been lifted from the position (surely it would be!) – Sturgis is, as you know, a very nice man, and I really wouldn't want to see anything happen to him. I haven't had DADA yet, but Dennis has and he tells me that Professor Podmore is quite a good teacher. So that's good news.

Speaking of good news! As of this morning, Hagrid has his wand back! Yes, I know he always had it – but now it's not hidden in that silly umbrella, and he is no longer breaking the law when he uses it. I'm happy to say that Headmistress McGonagall is taking a much firmer line with the Care of Magical Creatures curriculum, and Hagrid has agreed to keep the "interesting" creatures for the 6th and 7th years only. Obviously I'm not taking it, but Luna tells me that his first lesson was quite enjoyable and informative (and mercifully injury free!).

Ginny, Neville, Luna and I have been invited to tea with Hagrid on Friday afternoon – and he passes on his greetings to you and Harry.

I'm really glad for Harry that Dudley apologised. Although I'll admit to being more than a little shocked and I daresay he WAS feeling extremely uncomfortable (as well he should, quite frankly). I've never heard of dementors doing that – but I'm very interested in researching it when I've got a spare moment.

That's about all I have to tell you.

Give my love to George.

The Common Room is not the same without you. Even Crookshanks seems to miss your presence – but not as much as I do.

Love

Hermione


	3. 3Sept1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

9.45pm, 3rd September, 1998

Hermione! Sweety-pie, darling, oh-light-of-my-life! (Yes, that's what George has been saying all day!)

Just secretly, I don't mind when he pretends to wind me up about you ... but don't spread it around, OK? I've got a reputation to maintain.

Or not – so you can spread it around all you want.

Not so secretly, Harry is moping around and came into work today just for something to do. Be sure to tell his _girlfriend _that he's a right royal pain in the arse when she's not around to keep him occupied or play kissy-face with him. In fact, I'd much rather watch her play kissy-face with him than having him sloping around here with the whole "Ginny say's this" and "Ginny thinks that" thing that he's putting me through at the moment!

How are the lessons going? You didn't say much about them – I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad one ... good maybe?

Excellent news about Hagrid and his wand! Say hello from me when you see him on Friday. I miss him – don't miss his lessons much though (I know you'll keep that to yourself) and it can only be a good thing that McGonagall has decided to take an interest in what he's actually teaching. I used to wonder, a bit, why Dumbledore didn't – but I suppose he had other things on his mind.

George sends his love back. Mum wants me to remind you that you need to eat a good breakfast in the mornings. Dad says hello and that he and Mum will write at the end of the week.

Percy tells me to tell you that he's "ever so proud to have another Head in the family" (like he's already told you about a hundred times) and that he knows you'll do the position and yourself proud (no pressure!).

Fleur is sending you some more shampoo because she's made a new batch and she's quite sure that the Hogwarts shampoo just isn't good enough – and why she wanted me to tell you that is beyond me, but I promised I would. If she asks, you can let her know that I did. Bill and Charlie also say hello – Bill envies you and wishes he could go back too, while Charlie says you couldn't pay him all the galleons in Gringotts to go back to school.

Give my love to Ginny and say hello to Nev and Luna for me.

*

Dear Hermione! Don't believe a word of anything that your arse of a boyfriend tells you. Yes, I miss Ginny (and YOU!!!), but I am not in any way shape or form moping or sloping. Love, Harry.

*

Dear, Sweet, Peachy Hermione!

How is my favourite Head Girl? Just for the sake of clarity, both Ronnikins AND The Chosen One are soppy, moping gits and it's all rather sickening. Truly! 10 minutes in their company is the equivalent of 16 Puking Pastilles.

Speaking of Puking Pastilles; next week I'm sending your Head Girlship a special box (don't worry yourself, nothing that will get you into trouble!) to celebrate your re-entrance into the venerable world of education. Expect it on Wednesday at the latest.

Meanwhile, my Neanderthal younger brother is threatening to detach me from my remaining ear, so I'll pass the quill back to him.

George (wishes you were here to keep his prat little brother under control)

*

Yes. See what I have to put up with?

Anyway, it's getting late. I hope everything is OK with you and that you're enjoying your lessons, and I miss you (I might even miss that cat of yours, but don't tell him that, he might think I actually LIKE him or something).

LET ME KNOW ABOUT THE HOGSMEADE WEEKENDS AS SOON AS YOU KNOW THE DATES!!!!

Love you!

Ron

* * *

_Thanks for the (very encouraging) reviews! No, it's not going to be all letters. :-D_


	4. 4Sept1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

11.45pm, Friday 4th September, 1998

Gryffindor Common Room

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Ronald! You are all barking mad, the lot of you. Especially you and I love you for it!

I really needed the laugh this morning, I was SO tired. We had Astronomy last night, and I spent rather too much time after the lesson talking to Professor Sinistra.

If it makes you feel any better, Ginny and I might be moping ... just a little bit mind you. It must bad though, if you're rather watch Ginny and Harry "play kissy-face" than having him "sloping around".

Do you REALLY want to know about my lessons?

Well, you asked for it!

On Wednesday morning I had double Herbology, which was quite good. Neville is by far and away the king of Herbology, which is as it should be. Interestingly, I noticed quite a bit of flirtatious interaction between Neville and Hannah. I'll have to keep an eye on that one; I think they'd make a lovely couple. Hannah's very quiet these days, but she seems a lot more confident than she used to be ... and you know what Neville's like. Of course, they've always worked well together as lesson partners.

After break I had Arithmancy, which was more of a challenge than I expected it to be. Well, I DID expect it to be a challenge, but I was surprised at how much. Professor Vector seems pleased to have me back in her class, however.

Double History of Magic after lunch, and I don't really need to tell you about that, do I?

Thursday morning started off with double Ancient Runes. Professor Babbling retired over the summer, and our new teacher is Professor Footark. It was NOT a challenging lesson, and I am reserving judgement as to his teaching abilities. It could well be that he is feeling his way around to see what the class is capable of (although one would imagine that he would have had a discussion with Professor Babbling, or at least looked over her notes).

Arithmancy again, after break. Still challenging, but I think I've started to get back into the swing of it.

After lunch I had Potions and then Charms. Well, you know Professor Slughorn, so there's not need to go into that – although I'm happy to say he got us straight into brewing WOLFSBANE!! It's horrendously complicated, as one would expect, but I'm very impressed that he's decided to cover it.

Professor Flitwick ... well, you know him too. He made such a fuss over Neville, Ginny, Luna and myself; it really was excruciatingly embarrassing! His class was enjoyable, though, once he calmed down enough to actually teach it. HONESTLY! He's known us all for YEARS now ...

I already told you about Astronomy after dinner ... twice a week, mind you, Tuesday's and Thursdays – plus a theory lesson on Tuesday after break. I rather wish at least ONE of the lesson's was on a Friday night ... at least then I could have a bit of a sleep in on Saturday morning. Oh well.

Then there was today.

We had Transfiguration first and Headmistress McGonagall has chosen to continue teaching for the time being. I gather she couldn't find a professor up to her standard to take on the job. It's really rather irregular, and there hasn't been a teaching Headmaster-or-mistress at Hogwarts since 1568 (Headmaster Amberose Swott, who taught Herbology). She had us turning foot-stools into pianos – or rather, she had us TRYING to turn foot-stools into pianos. It's rather tricky, although I think that by our next lesson (double, Tuesday morning) I will have cracked it.

History of Magic ... and I'm ashamed to say that I may have dozed off.

DADA (double) after lunch and Denis was correct in asserting that Professor Podmore is a good teacher. The first half of the lesson we had a class discussion about the war (more attention I could have done without, frankly) and the second half he explained the spells behind various dark detectors; such as sneakoscopes and foe glass's, how they can be tricked and what to look for when they have been.

On Monday I have Runes and DADA in the morning, Arithmancy after break and double Potions after lunch. Tuesday is double Transfiguration, Astronomy theory, double Charms and Astronomy practical on Tuesday night.

Ginny, Neville, Luna and I had dinner with Hagrid tonight. It was great fun! Almost (but not quite) like old times. He really is rather enthusiastic about Neringa and was talking about introducing us (oh please NO! Actually, that's quite unfair; she might be lovely ... even if she can "take care of herself".).

Now I'm utterly exhausted; and i've got 2 feet about the first stages of Wolfsbane due on Monday after lunch, but I think I'll be better off heading for bed and then tackling it with a fresh head tomorrow morning.

Give everyone my love, and I'll write them on Sunday afternoon.

I miss you, so tell me all about your few days at work.

Love (and kisses)

Hermione

Oh! Still no word on the Hogsmeade dates, but as soon as I know YOU will.

* * *

_Thanks a tonne for the reviews so far! I PROMISE there won't be a letter for every day of the school year!_


	5. 5Sept1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

9.00am, 5th September, 1998

The Burrow

All joking aside, I'm glad you seem to be settling in. You will tell me if you're not, won't you? I don't know what I could possibly do ... but tell me anyway.

Work slowed down the last few days, I think because the holidays are finished. By slowed down I mean busy, instead of bedlam. It's nice to have a breather.

George is talking about moving into the flat above the shop. Mum's not happy about it, but she's keeping it to herself (more or less). I'm not sure how I feel about it either. George recons that the only way he's really going to get on with life is to move in there. Apparently he's a big boy and it's time for him to come out from behind Mummy's skirts and act as such.

I can see where he's coming from, but yeah. Still not sure about it.

Charlie is just about ready to head back to Romania, too. It's been good having him around, but in the end the dragons are his thing and he needs to get back to them.

Soon it will be just Harry and me in the house. Harry's seriously considering starting Auror training with their October intake – I know you already know all of this, because Harry told me he wrote you about it on Friday morning. We all know that Kingsley would give him Auror right off the bat, but Harry's opted for the full three years training instead, because he wants to feel like he earned it (honestly, I ask you?)

I don't know, part of me thinks that I should be tempted to go with him – but I'm not. Even if I wasn't committed to George and the shop at the moment, I don't think I'd want to go. Is it wrong of me to just want a couple of peaceful years?

Peaceful? Working for George? What am I saying?

Thinking of peaceful ... Remember Llandaff Cathedral? Remember walking around the graveyard and reading all of the names? Remember how I got sunburnt on the back of my ears? Remember how we hid behind that big old oak tree and you kissed my ears and then they were all better (and so was I)?

I want to do all that again, but not just for a day. Next year, when you're finished with Hogwarts, I'll take you on a proper holiday and we'll do all those twee tourist things that we pretend not to enjoy – and you can know more about the "ancient structures" than the guide does, and I'll pretend to tease you about it ... but I'll really be so proud that you somehow manage to remember all of that stuff.

But right now, Harry and I have to help Mum with the garden.

I think that's what you'd call an anticlimax, isn't it?

Lots of love, from Ron The Soppy


	6. 6Sept1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Sun 6th Sept 1998

* * *

"No need to ask who that's from," said Ginny, glancing up from her kippers and toast to find Hermione smiling slightly as she read her morning post.

Hermione nodded vaguely.

"What's he got to say?" Neville asked, glancing from Hermione to Ginny and back again.

"Just stuff," Hermione murmured, taking a moment to sip her coffee.

"Stuff?" Seamus arched his brows and scooted over to sit beside Ginny. "What sort of stuff?"

Hermione looked up to find she had a rapt audience. "Bloody hell," she rolled her eyes. "Don't you people have breakfast to eat or something?"

"Bloody hell?" Dean echoed, smirking slightly. "Did my ears deceive me ... from the Head Girl, no less?"

Exhaling impatiently through her nose, Hermione stared at them all. "Would you like me to read it aloud?" She gestured to the letter in her hand, and then cleared her throat in a formal sort of way.

"All joking aside, I'm glad you seem to be settling in. You will tell me if you're not, won't you? I don't know what I could possibly do ... but tell me anyway." She took a another sip of her coffee. "Work slowed down the last few days, I think because the holidays are finished. By slowed down I mean busy, as opposed to bedlam. It's nice to have a breather."

"Shall I go on?" She bit back a smile at their expressions. "I'm sure Ron won't mind, although it gets a bit more personal toward the end."

"No, that's fine," Dean said quickly, looking slightly sheepish, "none of our business ..."

"Really?" Hermione did smile then. "You think so?" Shaking her head, she drained the rest of her coffee. "Anyway, I've got things to do. Ginny, you're finishing your potions essay after lunch, right?"

"A-ha," Ginny nodded vaguely, engrossed in her own mail.

"Right. I'll keep the afternoon free." Hermione addressed Neville, Dean and Seamus, "I'll see you all at lunch. Neville, I'll be in the library if anything comes up."

"Why'd you stop her?" Seamus asked as they watched Hermione leave the Great Hall. "That was interesting; Ron never struck me as a letter writer."

"He used to write her every other day during the summer holidays," Ginny remarked absently, not bothering to look up. "Well, when she wasn't staying with us."

"Honestly," Dean frowned slightly, "I don't want Ron pissed off at me. He's a bit ... how do I put it? He's a bit protective of Hermione."

"I noticed that," said Neville.

"What do you mean?" Seamus asked.

Even Ginny looked up from her letter. "How do you know?"

Dean looked vastly uncomfortable. "Not sure it's my place," he turned to Neville, "when did you notice it?"

"When I had tea at The Burrow back in June," said Neville. "A conversation started about Hermione coming back here, actually, and she seemed to not want to talk about it. We asked, but Ron shut it down pretty quickly.

"True, that," Ginny agreed. "Dean?"

"How much do you know about when we were staying at Shell Cottage?" Dean asked bluntly.

"Harry told me the guts of it. Oh. Are you talking about what happened at Malfoy Manor? Yeah, they told me about that. It's not a secret or anything, but they don't talk about it much." Ginny looked thoughtful. "You were there," she nodded at Dean. "I'm sorry," she added, quite sincerely, "I forgot."

"That's OK," Dean chuckled, "I got off lightly. Ron was ..." he paused thoughtfully, "not happy, when Hermione was being tortured."

"Hermione was tortured?" Seamus' eyes widened.

"Oh yeah." Dean shook his head at the memory. "The cruciatus."

"Bellatrix?" Neville was suddenly pale.

"Uha." Dean nodded. "It was really bad, I don't know how she handled it – but Ron was going mad, really mad. I thought he was going to break the door down with his bare hands – ask Luna, she'll tell you."

"I'll tell you what?" asked a voice from behind him.

"Oh!" Dean swivelled around. "Hi Luna. I was just saying about Ron going mad at Malfoy Manor."

"Oh yes," Luna agreed, sliding onto the bench beside him. "It really was very intense, and Ron was very upset. Even after, when he got her to safety, he was quite enraged – why, it wasn't until he knew she was going to be alright that he could be persuaded to leave her side, and then all he wanted to do was ... what was it he wanted to do?"

"Go back and tear apart that putrid bitch limb by limb," Dean quoted.

"I think he might have done it," Luna said, quite matter-of-fact, "only Hermione told him not too, and then Harry arrived with poor Dobby."

*

10:00am, Sunday 6th September, 1998

Hogwarts Library

Dear Ron,

Are your ears burning? They should be, because they're talking about us.

Neville, Ginny, Dean, Luna and Seamus.

I can't find it in myself to be cross (although I probably should be), perhaps because I understand their curiosity, and it's easier to just let them talk amongst themselves than have to answer any questions.

I finished my potions essay yesterday morning – as I'm sure you're not at all surprised to know. Ginny held Quiddich trials yesterday, and is less than impressed with "this year's talent". I supposed that is one of the downsides to Hogwarts lack of students this year – although there was definitely no lack of interest. I don't know a lot about Quiddich, but even I can tell that she's going to have her work cut out for her.

Frankly, I don't think there is anything at all wrong with your wanting a peaceful couple of years (even if they are working for George) – I feel exactly the same way.

Harry is Harry; and I suspect that even though he's happier than he's ever been (which he clearly is), he's still got a lot of anger to work though - and the best way for him to do that is to put his energy into fighting the dark arts.

I love your idea of going on holiday. Where shall we go?

Cardiff, of course, because we did rather enjoy it (your poor ears!). I also loved our day in Cardigan - especially that little nook we found in the Teifi Marshes (although I'm quite sure that gaggle of geese didn't need to see what they saw); I KNOW you enjoyed that just as much as I did (you don't leave these letters laying about, do you?). Would it be too twee (as you put it) to rent a cottage for a few days? Somewhere quiet. Maybe on the ocean, or on a moor somewhere. Just you, me and nature?

Now, get a quill ready and take notes!

31st October. 12th December. 13th February. 17th April.

As promised, as soon as I knew, you did.

Now, for a surprise (it was news to me, at any rate).

Professor McGonagall tells me that both the Head Girl and Boy are allowed two free weekends per year – the only stipulations being that the weekends must be separate from one another's, and we must be back on Hogwarts premises by 9.30pm on the Sunday night. Also, we must give seven days advance notice.

I'll leave you to make what you will of that information (that was a hint, in case you were wondering).

Meanwhile, I have several other letters to answer. I hope you've had a relaxing weekend, and you can rest assured that the idea of your degnoming activities will keep me ... entertained ... for some time to come.

By the way, I love it when you're soppy.

Feel free to be soppy.

I love you!

Hermione

P.S. Did you take your shirt off? I need to know for academic purposes.

* * *

_Have I mention that I really like the reviews so far? _

_I really like the reviews so far!_

_(Surely there's a more original way to say that? I feel like a broken record - but I have to say it, because ... you know ... true and all that!)_


	7. 7Sept1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

7.32am, Monday 7th September, 1998

The Kitchen Table

The Burrow

You are as subtle as a brick, my love, and the hint is well taken.

I claim the weekend of the 19th and 20th of September and the weekend of the 28th and 29th of February! Please, please, PLEASE book them in with Professor McGonagall at the first opportunity!!!

Merlin ... 12 days ...

Now I have to get off to work, but I'll write you a longer letter tonight!

Love,

Ron (who might well be having a heart-attack at the idea of seeing you again so soon!)


	8. 7Sept1998II

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

7.00pm, Monday 7th September, 1998

Chaos Central

Weasley's Wizard Wheezers

To My Favourite Head Girl!

Thank you for the wonderful letter.

It's not as bad as I initially thought it was going to be, although the first night was a bit grim. Really though, he's everywhere around here and that's a good thing. I find myself talking to him a lot, up here - but don't worry, he's not talking back – and idea's for new products are flowing.

With a bit of help from Ron, I think we'll do Fred proud.

Speaking of Ron! Just what was it in your last letter that put him in such a tizzy? Really, Hermione, we can't have him walking around humming and smiling and generally being _cheerful_. What will the neighbours think?

I'm joking, of course, whatever it was ... keep it up.

Being the observant woman you are, I'm sure you've noticed the box. Don't worry, it won't explode when you open it!

Fleur has sent several bottles of shampoo, and Mum has chucked in a couple of tins of biscuits, for you and Ginny. From me, as promised, are the two newest day-dream charms for you and Ginny – I swear they are SAFE and tested (on myself, Ron and Harry), and you know you can trust me because if they weren't Ron and Harry (as well as Mum, can you imagine???) would flay me alive – no rush with those, but if you could give me an opinion that would be great. We thought they were pretty good, but as they're for the Wonder Witch line, and you are both wonderful witches ... (was that too much?).

Don't work too hard!

George


	9. 7Sept1998III

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

10.45pm, Monday 7th September, 1998

The Burrow

So they're talking about us, are they? Gits.

I was going to write you a nice long letter tonight, to make up for that three word wonder I shot off this morning (that owl was not happy about having to wait for me), but I'm knackered.

Today I ended up covered in gold and pink sticky stuff. What it's for, I've got no clue – hair or something, I think George said, but it was hard to tell because the prat was laughing so much. I'm still sparkling when I'm in the light, it's an interesting look and pink REALLY isn't my colour ... although Harry and Charlie seem to think that it's "fetching". Gits.

I had a really good day anyway (you really know how to write a letter, Hermione.)

I asked Percy (he came to the shop for lunch) about the two weekends; and he said that they definitely didn't do that when he was Head Boy, and he's a bit jealous. I hope you're OK with those dates, I was in a rush this morning (we were literally just about to floo out when the owl came), because I REALLY want to see you – and I want to give you your birthday present in person. I've already told George that I'm not going to be working on the Hogsmeade weekends, and he's fine with that ... as long as he gets to come along to the Halloween one, because he misses you too, and he wants to talk to Nev about something (maybe you should warn him?).

Harry asked if I could go with him to visit Teddy on Fridays. You know how he always took Ginny, but he can't for now, so this Friday just gone he went on his own. He said it was fine and all, but he wants someone to keep Andromeda company when he plays with Teddy. I don't know. George said I can take Fridays after lunch off, as long as I stay an extra hour on the other days and help with inventory. No problem there, it's only an extra hour, you know?

BUT (I feel an utter git saying this) I'm not sure about Andromeda. She's nice and all, and I like her, it's just that sometimes she looks a bit too much like Bellatrix and it freaks me out. Which I KNOW is totally unfair because she's nothing at all like that bitch ... but yeah, just for a second when I first see her I remember stuff that I'd really rather forget. I'll go, because Harry asked and Teddy is cute, and Andromeda probably DOES need company, but if you've got any thoughts on how I could get over that other stuff that would be good.

Ugh. I'd much rather think about our holiday that we're going to take!! Cardiff and Cardigan, definitely, because of why you said. LOVE the cottage idea. What about Ireland? Dad's got second cousins in Killarney (touristy!) and there's a lot of early wizarding history in the area. Is there anywhere else you'd really like to go?

Before I forget!

No, I don't leave your letters lying around (living in this house taught me that!!) so say whatever you want.

AND YES, I took my shirt off (Entertained? Does that mean what I think it means??? If it does, it'll keep me busy for AGES!!).

"Just you, me and nature?"

Music to my ears (or eyes, although at doesn't actually make SENSE). Just you, me and the middle of the motorway would do me at the moment. Merlin.

I'd say more, but I don't know if it's a good idea – have you got some sort of tongue tying thing we can put on these (or eye stinging, maybe?) so that no one else can read them ... on the other hand, maybe I should just try my hand at poetry and Seamus can recite them to the Great Hall over breakfast. That would cure them!

I miss you, 'Mione.

Love

Ron.

* * *

_Well, we're getting there slowly. Thanks for the reviews, great stuff._


	10. 8Sept1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

9.30pm, Tuesday 8th September, 1998

Gryffindor Tower

Oh, go on then! Write some poetry – everyone kept their noses in their own business today, but I'm not holding my breath that it will last.

I think you know exactly what "entertained" means; just as I know exactly what "busy" means, the idea of which will keep me "entertained" - and now that I've told you that, it will probably keep you even more "busy".

It's just a delicious circle, isn't it?

(Why yes, I am feeling lively today. Why do you ask? You did say I could write whatever I wanted!)

I'm glad you had a good Monday, despite the gold and pink accident (no, I can't see pink being your best colour). My Monday was very Monday-like. Runes, DADA, Arithmancy and Double Potions. I'm not seeing a lot of improvement with Professor Footark, but it was only our second lesson so I'm still reserving judgement. Today was much more satisfying, and I've just about got Professor McGonagall's piano perfected (I'm not entirely happy with the tone of the notes).

I caught up with Professor McGonagall after dinner last night (the owl bought me your first letter at lunch) and both weekends are now completely ours. Just quietly, I've had a bit of a difficult time concentrating since (although I certainly hope you haven't gone and spent money on a birthday present for me, just seeing you will be enough!).

In regards to Andromeda, I understand where you're coming from – I've had the odd moment like that myself – but I think the best thing would be to remind yourself that she's Tonks' Mum (and Teddy's Grandma, of course). I think it's nice that you're going with Harry.

The _motorway_, Ron? Really?

I don't know if I should be flattered, or amused. A bit of both, perhaps?

Oh, Merlin! Time's run away from me, again. I'm sorry! I've just got time to get this up to the owlery before I do my rounds.

I miss you too, so much. Bless Professor McGonagall and her two weekends a year ...

Love and more

Hermione


	11. THE

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

THE

* * *

There.

She could see him on the other side of the gate, laughing and joking with Hagrid. She wanted to run, but forced herself to remain at a brisk walking pace.

Had it only been three weeks? Not even that, but it felt like an age.

He just looked so GOOD.

Then he saw her and was grinning from ear to ear ... she abandoned the idea of decorum to fly into his waiting arms.

Warmth.

He was so warm and this was right where she was supposed to be.

"Righ' then, I'll jus leave you both to it," Hagrid chuckled.

Hermione lifted her head from the crook of Ron's neck – she'd been breathing him in – and said, "Thanks, Hagrid."

"Yeah," Ron sounded as if he was in a daze. "Have a good weekend, Hagrid."

Hagrid's beard twitched and his eyes crinkled at the ends. "Not as good as you two will, by the look o' it."

"Hagrid!" Hermione laughed.

Hagrid laughed too. "Yeh look happy to see each other, tha's all I'm sayin'." He made shooing motions with his enormous hands, nearly decapitating Ron in the process. "Now off with yer both, and mind yer no' late back on Sunday night!" Still laughing, he backed into the Hogwarts grounds, pulling the great gates closed as he went, then with a final jaunty wave he turned and made his way back toward the school.

Ron buried his face in her hair and hugged her tightly. "So good to see you."

"Yes," she agreed, wrapping her arms around him. "How are you?"

"I'm great now." He loosened his grip on her to step back a little and gaze at her happily. "Where do you want to go first?"

"I thought we might stop at Hogsmeade for a quick morning tea," she suggested.

"Merlin," Ron pretended to be horrified, "you want to go to Puddifoot's don't you?"

"What if I do?" She challenged, biting back a giggle.

"I suppose I'll just have to cope with it," Ron grinned suddenly, "but there's something that needs to be done first."

"What's that?" She let her eyes drift shut, savouring the feeling of his fingertips light on her temple and then tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Happy Birthday, Hermione," he whispered against her cheek, and then slid his lips over hers ... lightly, gently, hardly there at all.

"I can still see yeh!" Hagrid's voice came floating toward them.

"Hmmm," she smiled slightly, "he has a point."

"Come on then," Ron chuckled, "let's go. Are you game for Puddifoot's? I've never been, but Harry says it's very pink and very lacy and the bastion of loving couples."

"Ginny say's they do a good scone," Hermione said as they linked hands and started toward Hogsmeade.

"Even better."

*

"Harry wasn't exaggerating," Hermione muttered in an undertone as they stood just inside the door and looked around with wide eyes.

"No, he really wasn't," Ron agreed, blinking in something akin to surprise.

"Good morning!" A tiny, round woman with a pleasant face, Madam Puddifoot herself, bustled toward them. "A table for two?"

They nodded silently.

She surveyed them with a friendly eye. "A cosy nook, I think. Yes, I've just the table for you. Come along then."

They followed her mutely to a tiny alcove tucked away in the far corner, and obediently slid into the cushioned booth.

"Two cream teas," she stated, beaming down at them.

"I ... uh," Ron glanced at Hermione, who nodded quickly. "Yes, thank you."

"Very good," the woman nodded her approval and hurried away.

"Well ..." Ron stared around, slightly gobsmacked. "This is ..."

"Cosy," Hermione supplied, stifling a giggle behind her hand.

"I was going to say pink and lacy, but it's cosy too," Ron agreed. "I hope you're hungry."

"Not particularly," Hermione grinned, "but I'm sure you're taking donations."

"No doubt." He took both her hands in his. "This table is tiny."

"It's perfect." She leaned forward slightly. "Don't you have something you need to finish?"

There was nothing light, nothing gentle, and nothing hardly even there, when they met in the middle.

Need.

She freed one of her hands and sunk her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck; needing to hold him in place until they were out of breath and gasping with sudden, delirious laughter.

With spectacular timing, perhaps born of years of catering to young lovers, Madam Puddifoot appeared with a heavily laden silver tray.

"Here you are dears," she said, placing a large-bellied, floral tea-pot between them. "You look capable of pouring, Miss Granger," she placed the cups and saucers in front of Hermione. "And you," she addressed Ron, giving him the large plate of scones, jam and cream, "look like you know what to do with these, Mr Weasley." Once again nodding her approval, she added, "Sing out if you need anything," and turned on her heel.

"Reminds me of Mum," Ron half-frowned. "You want me to pour?"

"Better not," Hermione looked amused, "who knows what might happen."

"Fine," Ron reached for a scone, "still warm, excellent. Probably just as well, all this matching stuff makes me nervous."

"Silly," Hermione smiled, "it's no different than any other tea-service."

Ron shook his head as he slathered the halved scones with cream and then dribbled jam over the tops. "Mum's got this one, but in blue instead of red and yellow. She only ever brings it out for best though."

"Really?" Hermione carefully put his tea in front of him. "Not your kind of thing?"

"Thanks," he passed her a plate of the prepared scones. "'Spose it's nice enough," he picked up his cup and studied it critically. "Fleur's got a set that's mostly white – you know that kind of white that's almost blue? She got one like that, but with a blueish green band along the top and a gold rim on the edge. I like that one."

"A bit more masculine, perhaps?" Hermione suggested casually before sipping her tea.

"Maybe," Ron agreed and took a large bite of his scone, looking suddenly amused.

"What?"

He just shook his head, his mouth too full to speak.

"Maybe you should try taking small bites next time," Hermione teased.

Holding his hand in front of his mouth, he snorted inelegantly and then swallowed. "Now you tell me," he mocked. "They're good though."

"Clearly," she took a small bite of her own. "Not bad," she agreed. "What was so funny?"

"We're discussing china patterns, Hermione." He took a swig of his tea. "_China Patterns!_"

Her lips twitched upward. "How very old fashioned."

"Indeed." He raised a brow. "What's next?"

Her brow furrowed thoughtfully. "The next logical step would be picking out the linens."

"Hermione!" He gasped in a scandalised tone. "That's a bit ..." he dropped his voice to a whisper, "intimate, don't you think?"

"Oh, I don't know," she murmured coyly, trailing a light finger over the back of his hand and glancing up at him through her lashes. "Linens are very ... lineny."

"Lineny?" Ron sniggered. "That's the best you can do?"

"Sorry," Hermione giggled, "I concede defeat."

"I am the master!" He raised his arms in triumph. "The Master of Hippogriff-Dung-Artistry!"

"You're the master of something, alright!" She agreed as they both fell about, laughing.

*

"When is your Mum expecting us?" Hermione asked as they wandered, arm in arm, through Hogsmeade.

"Not 'til tea-time," Ron told her as glanced in the window of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop.

"So we've really got the entire day to ourselves," Hermione smiled with satisfaction.

"Good, isn't it?" Ron nodded. "What do you want to do?"

* * *

_Random useless information! _

_Madam Puddifoot served their Cream Tea on Royal Albert "Old Country Roses", Mrs Weasley's set is Royal Albert "Moonlight Rose" and Fleur's is Royal Doulton "Biltmore". I have a "thing" about tableware. LOL._


	12. WEEK

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

WEEK

* * *

"Ooooh! Shit! That's it – right ... oooh, fuck, RON!" Hermione clutched at him, her back arching violently as he threw one of her legs over his shoulder and turned his head to place an open mouthed kiss on her calf.

"Gotta slow down, 'Mione," he panted, doing that exact opposite, "fucking love you ... can feel it ... fuck!"

"Tell me!" She worked her hips up, searching desperately for more delicious friction. "What's it ... ohgodsogood ... what's it ... like?"

"Hot," he grunted, "tight ... wet," his breath hissed through his teeth, "brilliant!"

"Brilliant," she echoed, shuddering under him, clenching around him, then letting out a cry of pleasure and holding him tightly as he continued thrusting frantically into her and finally grunted loudly in his relief.

As if in slow motion, he fell onto one elbow, his face hovering over hers. "I know," he whispered, hardly able to speak, "stay ..."

"Hmmmm," she nodded, smiling slighty and gazing up at him through heavily lidded eyes. "Just for a minute," she ran her hands down his back, still slick with sweat, "still feels good."

"Minx," he murmured, gathering her in his arms and kissing her fervently.

"You love it," she smirked once they flopped limply onto their backs.

"Bloody right I do," he agreed, lifting his head to look around. "Where are we?"

"Merseyside," she grinned, rolling onto her side. She plucked a red campion from near his shoulder and dragged it over his chest slowly.

"That tickles," he bit his lip.

"I know ..." she grinned mischievously. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Never," he took a deep breath and stretched luxuriously, "I reckon we're getting better at this shagging business."

"Shagging?" Hermione laughed. "That wasn't shagging. That was fucking, pure and simple."

Ron snorted. "I was trying to be polite."

"Polite is for when our clothes are on," she informed him, discarding the flower and flicking one of his nipples with her thumb. "And yes, we are definitely getting better at this fucking business. As we should be," she bent her head and ran her tongue over the nipple she'd just been flicking, "with all the _fucking_ practice we had over the summer."

"Damn it, I love it when you talk that way," he sunk his hand into her hair and moaned softly when her teeth replaced her tongue.

"Prove it," she laughed.

"Give me about five more minutes, and I'll more than prove it," he growled, tangling their legs together and rolling her over him.

* * *

_What a **terrible **place to stop the chapter! :-P_

_Keep an eye out for END and SUNDAY._


	13. END

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

END

* * *

"Hermione!" George threw down his quill and quickly jumped up to meet her as she and Ron walked though kitchen door, engulfing her in quick – but every warm – hug. "You made it! I thought Ron might have run away with you!"

"Honestly George, they're here in plenty of time," Mrs Weasley admonished, wiping her hands thoroughly on an old tea-towel before crossing the room. "How are you dear?" She asked, embracing Hermione and kissing her cheek, "Happy Birthday, did have a good day?"

"Yes, thank you," Hermione blushed slightly, "it was lovely."

"Good," Mrs Weasley's eyes flicked from Hermione's blushing face to Ron's, then back again, and she seemed to be suppressing a smile. "I'm right in the middle of things here, I'm afraid, so I'll just put on a pot of tea and you lot can sort yourselves out."

"I'll help!" Hermione said immediately.

"Don't be silly, dear," Mrs Weasley shook her head firmly, "I'm sure you've had a busy day." She turned to address her sons. "Ron, be a dear and fetch the red box from my dressing table, would you? George, you can pour the tea."

"Anything you say Mum," George wrinkled his nose at her back, "Ron, while you're there ... in the front room ..."

*

"You did well," Harry chuckled as they sat relaxing in the front room after dinner had been cleared up.

"I did, didn't I?" Hermione was snuggled into Ron's side; reading her newest book, a centuries old English translation of The Black Book of Carmarthen. "Where on earth did you find this, Harry?"

"It's a secret," Harry grinned, and opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by the entrance of Mr Weasley and Percy.

"Hello everyone," Mr Weasley yawned, "Sorry we're so late, mad day at work, you know." He spotted Hermione and beamed. "Hermione! Happy Birthday! I see Molly didn't wait for me to give you our present," he nodded at the rug covering her and Ron's knees.

"It's lovely," Hermione told him, automatically stroking the thick soft wool. "So warm."

"Molly thought you might need something for those cold nights in Gryffindor Tower," Mr Weasley chuckled, "she's convince you stay up all night doing your homework and will catch a chill."

"She's probably right," Percy chuckled, reaching into his travelling cloak and pulling out a wrapped silver package, which he handed to Hermione. "Happy Birthday," he grinned suddenly, "it's not a great deal, but I think you'll like it."

Curiosity piqued, Hermione carefully unwrapped the package. "My favourite kind of ink! Enough for the year, too. This is fabulous, thank you, Percy." She laughed happily. "This will go very nicely with George's ever-sharp quills and Charlie's endless roll of parchment."

"We may well have colluded," Percy nodded.

"So practical," Fleur wrinkled her nose and handed Percy his dinner tray. "So appropriate, zese Weasley men. Even Beell was looking to present you with stationery, until I put my foot down and reminded 'im that you now have enough from 'is bruzzers and should also 'ave somezing beautiful!"

"If I didn't know you better," George chortled, "I'd be insulted by that."

"Oh, you," Fleur waved her hand dismissively. "You know I do not mean it in zat way."

"Of course you don't," Hermione agreed, "and the pashmina is lovely, Fleur. I'll definitely enjoy wearing it."

"I know you will," Fleur looked pleased with herself. "The colour is very good on you, as I knew it would be," she winked at Hermione, "just be sure to 'ave Ron on your arm at all times, as he co-ordinates so well with it."

"Nice," Ron sniggered, looking up from his chess game. "I'm an accessory now?"

"The best kind," Hermione told him, and kissed his cheek.

"Well," he gave her a soft look, "that's OK then."

"Gonna be sick," Harry muttered while George mimed retching behind the settee.

Sighing happily, Hermione went back to her book

*

"Time for me to be off, I think," George stretched and yawned, "it's nearly half eleven."

"Why don't you stay, mate?" Ron stretched too. "Just for the weekend?"

"Naaah, I've got stuff I want to go over before I turn in, but it's all at the flat."

"You're be here for breakfast tomorrow though, yeah?" Ron frowned slightly.

"'Course I will," George half-grinned, "Merlin, you're like an old mother hen, aren't you ... no, don't wake her up, let her sleep."

"Are you joking?" Ron scoffed quietly as he shook Hermione's shoulder gently. "She'd never forgive me. 'Mione, wake up."

"Wha?" Hermione eyes popped open. "What? Oh ... I fell asleep, sorry." She, too, stretched and yawned. "What time is it?"

"Almost half eleven," Ron told her, "George is heading off."

"Oh. Why don't you stay for the weekend?" Hermione asked, sitting straighter.

George shook his head ruefully, while Ron looked faintly smug. "Things to do, Sweetpea, but I'll see you tomorrow."

She studied him through narrowed eyes, and then shook an admonishing finger at him. "Breakfast, OK? You'll see us at breakfast."

"Absolutely," George agreed, standing slowly and groaning elaborately. "Stay where you are," he laughed, "I do know the way out."

"Don't be silly," Hermione scrambled up quickly.

"Yeah," said Ron, "I think we can manage to walk you to the fireplace."

"I'm honoured," George quipped as they made their way into the kitchen.

"As you should be," Hermione giggled as they hugged goodnight and kissed each other on the cheek.

"Don't stay up too late talking," George waggled his eyebrows at them both.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Ron embraced his bother and they slapped each other's backs.

"See you tomorrow then." George grabbed a handful of floo powder, threw it into the dying embers, stepped into the green flames and disappeared from view.

Ron and Hermione stood for a few moments, watching the flames return to normal, and then Ron put the old fire-screen back in place.

"Do you think he's alright?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Dunno," Ron sighed, putting his arm around her shoulders. "He says he is."

"He worries me," Hermione leaned against him, sliding her arm around his waist.

"Me too." Ron shrugged, "I 'spose he knows what he's doing."

"Do you think he'd come back if he wasn't alright?" She wondered as they made their way slowly back into the front room.

"I do, yeah." His tone lightened. "He actually has, twice ... so yeah, he's not going to ... you know, suffer on his own or whatever."

"I'm glad to hear it," Hermione murmured, and then added, "I'm so tired. Shall we go up?"

"Yeah," Ron gave a jaw cracking yawn, "I'm knackered." He picked up her new rug, folded it carefully and draped it over his arm.

*

"Are you ...?" Hermione motioned at her bedroom door with her free hand.

"If you don't mind," Ron nodded slightly.

She widened her eyes and tilted her head to one side. "Would I have asked?"

"Fair point," he chuckled quietly, followed her through the door and then shut it quietly behind them.

"Exactly." Hermione pointed her wand at the door and muttered something under her breath, and then crossed the room to draw the curtain open. "Come and look," she said, "the fairies are out tonight."

"The gits," Ron snorted, coming to stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin lightly on the top of her head. "They never learn, do they?"

"You never know," she said, "one of these days your Dad might leave the shed window open."

"Hasn't happened yet," he said.

"They're pretty though," she murmured.

"That they are," he agreed. "Speaking of pretty ... I haven't given you your birthday present yet."

"Oh," she half twisted in his arms to stare up at him, surprised. "I thought I told you not to go and spend any money on me."

"You really thought I'd not get _you _a birthday present?" He mocked gently. "Anyway, I'd already bought it." He held a narrow purple leather box in front of her.

"I ..." she took the box from him and slid open the small ornate clasp; gasping when the box popped open to reveal a bracelet of delicate sparkling flowers. "Ron ..." she held it up to the light, "when did you get this?"

"The day after you went to Hogwarts," he chuckled, "I saw you admiring it in Diagon Alley when we went for you books and stuff. I hope you like it."

"Like it?" She blinked up at him. "It's absolutely beautiful."

"I'm glad you think so," he grinned, "and before you say it! No, it's not too much, and it didn't cost a fortune."

She opened her mouth to protest, but promptly shut it again.

"Success!" He dipped his head and kissed her gently. "I love it when that happens."

"When what happens?" She looked slightly suspicious.

"When I bamboozle you with logic," he told her, wincing exaggeratedly.

"I suppose it has been known to happen," she raised her brows in challenge.

"Ouch," he grinned. "You got me there."

"And don't you forget it," she whispered, sliding her arms around his neck and drawing him down for another kiss.

"I think it's time I took you to bed, Miss Granger."

_

* * *

_

_I'm really pleased that people seem to be enjoying this!!! Thanks! _


	14. SUNDAY

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

SUNDAY

* * *

"Ron," Hermione whispered, "Ron, wake up!"

Ron mumbled and burrowed his face deeper into the valley of her breasts.

Fighting back the desire to laugh, she tried again, using her free hand to shake his shoulder gently. "Ron!"

He lifted his head and stared at her through bleary eyes. "Wazzamatter?"

"The alarm just went off," she scratched the back of his head gently, "nearly time for you to go."

"Ommph." He let his head fall back down, but his arm tightened around her and he nuzzled her breasts. "Donwanna."

"I know." And she did know, as her hands roved his shoulders.

He sighed deeply and lifted his head again. "How long?"

"Fifteen minutes," she sighed regretfully, "twenty if we want to push our luck."

"Damn." He pushed himself up until his cheek was touching hers. "That's not long."

"Long enough," she murmured, sliding her hand down his back, "if you want ..."

His low laugh reverberated through her. "What do you think?"

"So why are we still talking?" She giggled. "Get on with it."

"Bossy, aren't you?" He rubbed her cheek with his and dropped a kiss on her jaw. "Just like that?"

"Hmmm." She nodded and shifted one of her legs up slightly. "Don't try and tell me you don't have the goods for it, I can feel it right there."

"I wasn't about to," he chuckled, shifting over her again and settling between her legs, "I'm ready if you are."

"Oh, no need to worry about that," she breathed, "I was dreaming when the alarm ... oh my ..." her fingers dug into his back.

"Fuck!" He groaned loudly. "Tell me ... the dream."

"Not much to tell ... really ... just us, yesterday ..." she wrapped her legs around his hips, "you know ... you were there."

"That I was." Leaning up on his elbows, he sunk his hands into her hair and stoked her temples with his thumbs. "Now, you can tell _me _how it feels."

"You're going to make me talk? _Now?_" She shook her head and half-smiled. "You'll have to slow down ... I don't know if we've got enough time."

"C'mon, Hermione," he brushed his lips over her forehead, and slowed his thrusting down to what she thought of as walking pace. "You know I can go in about two minutes given the right conditions ..." he kissed her ear, "we've got enough time for a chat ..."

"Hmmmm, maybe you're right." She smiled softly. "It's different in the morning ..." sighing happily, she slid her hands down his back and squeezed his bum, "like you're ... I don't know ... harder? Or maybe it's that I'm more sensitive, because you're always ... aaahh, that's really good, what was that?"

"Changed angle," Ron grinned, "just a bit ... got this book Fred and George gave me ages ago, with tips and stuff."

"A book?" Hermione laughed quietly. "Do I ever get to see this book?"

"No ... absolutely not," he laughed too. "So I'm harder in the morning then? I'll keep that in mind."

"I don't know if harder is the right way to put it ... just different ..."

He looked vaguely smug. "I take it you're not complaining."

"Merlin no ... morning ... night ... middle of the afternoon ... just before lunch ... it's all incredible."

"Good to know ... it's brilliant on my end too."

"I dream about something else, too," she told him, suddenly shy.

"Hmm?" He looked at her, curious as to what could possibly make her blush when they were in this position.

"I love you, you know ..."

"I know. I love you too ... works out well, doesn't it?"

"Well enough that when I finish with Hogwarts we could ..."

"We could what?"

"Look for somewhere to live ... together?"

"Would you?" His eyes widened in surprise. "That would be ..." and then, "'Mione," he cupped her cheeks in his hands and their foreheads touched briefly. "Yes."

She looked slightly relieved.

"Did you really think I'd say no?" He murmured, somewhat incredulous.

"I don't know," she whispered into his shoulder, smiling against his skin. "It was a possibility."

"Never," nuzzling her neck with his lips and nose, he quickened his pace slightly.

"Had enough talking?" She giggled breathlessly.

"Oh yeah."

*

"Wake up!"

Ron was being prodded in the arm, none to gently.

"Sod off," he grumbled, rolling over and burying his head in the billow. "Too early."

"Touchy," Harry laughed, "get up, you lazy git. It's eight."

"Fine," Ron leaned up on his arms, rubbed his face vigorously and then slowly sat up, grinning at the sight of parchment in Harry's hand. "Letter from Ginny?"

"Letter _for_ Ginny," Harry corrected, "can I borrow Pig?"

"Sure," Ron shrugged, "don't even have to ask, mate. Everything alright? Don't you usually send her something on Sunday night?"

"It's all good," Harry smiled slightly, "she's slightly bored without Hermione at school, so she sent hers early, there's one for you on your desk."

"Ah." Ron yawned and flopped back down on his bed. "Go right ahead. Pig'll be back by tomorrow, I'll send my letters then."

"Thanks," Harry crossed the small room and held out his hand to Pig. "Keep still, you silly animal," he chuckled, attempting to tie the letter onto the owls leg. "Take this to Ginny, and come straight back."

Pigwidgeon hooted happily, flew around their heads twice and then shot out the window.

"So." Harry sat on his bed.

"So?" Ron sat up again.

"A question."

"Fire away."

"Ginny and I have been talking about taking a holiday," Harry said, watching Ron carefully.

"Good for you," Ron nodded. "Why are you telling me?"

"We thought you and Hermione might want to come with us," Harry stated. "Two reasons. Firstly, it would be fun and the four of us don't spend nearly enough time together. Secondly, Ginny thinks that your Mum and Dad will be less likely to object if it's the four of us."

"Oh." Ron looked surprised. "You're right on both counts, sound Hermione out and see what she thinks."

"What do YOU think?" Harry pressed.

"Sounds like a plan," Ron told him. "We've been talking about a couple of weeks away too; Merlin knows by the end of damn year we're going to need a break. But I'm not going to say yes or no without asking Hermione first."

"Right then," said Harry. "I'll talk to her after breakfast, at the very least we could meet up in the middle. So, mate, bit of a late night?"

Ron snorted. "Something like that. You want details?"

"No thanks." Harry shook his head quickly, "I'll just sit here being quietly envious."

"Yeah, sorry mate." Ron looked down at his hands briefly. "I know she misses you as much as I miss Hermione."

"That much?" Harry sniggered. "Poor Hermione then, if Ginny's anything like the surly prat you are."

"You're hilarious, you are," Ron mocked, "look in the mirror some time."

"Yeah, I know," Harry sobered. "I just wish this year would be over."

"Me too." Ron took a deep breath and then added, quite tentatively, "Hermione asked me to move in with her, when she's done."

"Really?" Harry's eyes widened.

"Yeah ..." Ron smiled.

"Will you do it?"

"As if I would say no," Ron looked shocked at the idea. "Mum's probably not going to be happy, but she'll get over it."

Harry nodded slowly. "I don't know if you'd want to, but you could go to Grimmauld Place, if you wanted. I don't want to live there any time soon, you know? But I don't want to get rid of it either." He laughed at Ron's dumbfounded expression. "I've been thinking about it for a while now. Honestly, it's not been too hard to see which direction you two are headed. It needs a lot of work though."

"All those bloody snakes," Ron agreed with a grimace.

"Exactly," Harry's lip curled momentarily. "I thought we could share it – it's not like there's not enough space."

Ron chewed his lip thoughtfully. "You mean like we could have one floor, you two the other; and the rest is like one great big Gryffindor common room?"

"Basically." Harry agreed.

"What does Ginny think of all this?"

"She gave me the idea," Harry grinned. "She said it would make a great place to stay in the city," Harry laughed suddenly, "or during the winter, when the children start to come and then go off to Hogwarts, according to Kreacher."

"Children? Hogwarts?" Ron's jaw dropped and he laughed too. "Planning ahead, Potter?"

Harry held his hands up. "Don't look at me! That's what she said he said – not that I'm against the idea. Just not yet!"

"I know what you mean," Ron chortled.

"So what do you think?"

"I don't know." Ron scratched his head. "I think it sounds like a good idea, actually."

"Well, there's no rush," Harry shrugged, "talk to Hermione about it sometime and see what you come up with."

"Right, I'll do that."

A loud voice echoed through the house. "Darlings! I have arrived! Break out the marching band!"

"That'll be George," Harry snorted.

"Such a quiet chap," Ron sniggered, reaching for the pile of clothes at the foot of his bed. "Time for breakfast."

*

"Well, will you look at that," George huffed, hiding his grin behind his hand, "all of that nagging about me coming for breakfast, and she doesn't even show herself until a quarter past eight! I've been here waiting for simply hours."

"Morning George," Hermione laughed at him, "morning Mrs Weasley."

"Good morning Hermione" Mrs Weasley shook her head and handed her a plate of toast, "put that on the table for me dear, and pay no attention to him, he's hardly been here for five minutes."

"I know," Hermione put the plate in the middle of the table and took her seat beside George, "I heard his melodious entrance."

"Are you casting aspersions on my rich and fulsome singing voice?" George scowled playfully and poured a cup of tea, "I'm hurt, Poppet, hurt."

"Rich and fulsome?" Hermione took the tea he handed her and raised her brows. "That's one way of putting it."

"Morning everyone," Harry shuffled into the kitchen.

"Morning Harry," George and Hermione chorused.

"Good morning, dear," said Mrs Weasley, "breakfast is nearly ready, is Ron on his way down?"

"He's in the shower," Harry took his seat opposite George and poured himself some tea. "Five minutes, he said."

"Good," Mrs Weasley glanced at the clock on the mantle and then went back to her cooking. "Charlie and Arthur are outside collecting more eggs, so that just leaves Percy, Bill and Fleur. I thought we might pop down to the village today, it's the last day of the Flower Festival and there are a couple of bare patches in the garden I'd like sorted."

*

"I had an owl this morning," George told Ron and Hermione quietly as they wandered slowly through the bright display of African Tulips; several feet behind Percy, Harry and Charlie.

"It happens," Ron said lightly, watching Hermione run her finger along a particularly orange petal.

"From Lee," George clarified.

"Ah." Hermione frowned. "What did he have to say for himself?"

"Not much," George rolled his eyes. "Just said hello, and asked how I was going."

"Big of him," Ron said sourly.

"Ron," Hermione admonished gently, "less than helpful."

"Maybe." Ron shrugged. "Are you going to write back?"

"Might ..." George sighed, "not sure what I'd say."

"Tell the truth," Hermione suggested. "You've every right to let him know how you feel."

*

"Hermione," Harry dropped back from Percy and Charlie, "got a minute."

"Of course," she said immediately.

"I'll see you in a bit," Ron grinned and kissed her cheek. "Come George, let's go look at some pretty flowers." He grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him forward.

"Subtle as ever," Harry chuckled.

"Obviously," Hermione agreed. "Something up?"

"Not really," Harry grinned, "Ron and I were talking this morning."

"Imagine that," she giggled, "what about?"

"Ginny and I are thinking of taking a couple of weeks holiday after the school year," Harry explained, "we thought you and Ron might want to come with us. He said you've got plans of your own, but I thought we might be able to sort something out. He said to ask you."

"That sounds lovely," Hermione smiled. "Do you have anywhere in mind?"

"No. Just away, at this point," said Harry. "Not Scotland and not camping."

"Gosh, I wonder why you don't want to go camping," she said dryly. "We decided yesterday that we'll get a cottage in St Cleer and take side-trips to Wales for a few days. How does that sound to you?"

"Saint who?" Harry asked. "Where's that?"

"Cornwall," she told him, "in Bodmin Moor. There's a small wizarding community on the outskirts. We had lunch there yesterday, it's really nice."

"I thought you went to Merseyside yesterday?"

"In the afternoon," she told him.

"You like your travelling, don't you Hermione." Harry laughed.

*

"Glad the rain stopped," said Ron as the group made their way back to The Burrow, along the old Otter River path. "You're not cold, are you?"

"No," Hermione smiled up at him, "it's chilly, but you're keeping me nice and warm."

"Glad to be of service," he grinned, pulling her closer as they walked.

"Fleur was right," she giggled suddenly, "I really do need to keep you on my arm at all times."

"Oh, that's right," Ron laughed, and slid his fingers over the fabric on her shoulders, "I forgot, I'm like a handbag now."

"Oh, hush," she pulled them both to a halt. "A handbag? Maybe a nice big coat, but never a handbag."

"Like this?" He wrapped his arms around her and planted a smacking kiss on her temple.

"Hmm, exactly like this," she agreed. "Harry talked to me about the holiday."

"Uha," he nodded, "what do you think?"

"It'll be fun, there's no rule that say's we're going to have to spend every spare moment with them."

"I hope not," Ron scoffed, "there are some things I don't want an audience for."

"Precisely." She stood on her toes and kissed his neck gently, before continuing on. "You're being very open-minded about Harry and Ginny, I'm impressed."

"Yeah, well," he pulled a wry face. "He knows if he messes her around I'm going to have to kill him, best mate or not, and they're good for each other. As long as they're both happy. Anyway," he bent his head to brush his lips over hers, "what's this about Neville and Hannah?"

"Oooh, that." She smiled as they started walking again. "I'm not sure. They're certainly getting along well enough; Neville can be quite the flirt when he puts his mind to it."

"Neville? Flirting? You're joking!"

"Not in the least," she giggled, "it's actually rather sweet. Hannah certainly seems to think so. Now if we could just find someone for Luna."

"Hm." Ron looked thoughtful. "Dean?"

"No, they're just good friends, and he's got his eye on Valerie Dickens."

"Who?"

"Sixth year Ravenclaw," she told him, "I don't know her that well, but she's nice enough by all accounts."

"Fair enough," Ron nodded, "I always thought he had a thing for Parvati, but then he went out with Ginny for a bit ... so maybe not. Luna's a difficult one though, she's lovely and all ... but it would have to be someone who doesn't take himself too seriously. We'll have to think about it."

"Oh good lord, do you know what we've become?" Hermione shuddered elaborately.

"What?" His lips twitched upward at her expression.

"We're turning into that odious couple that are so sickeningly happy they try to set up all of their single friends!"

Laughing loudly, they hurried to catch up with the rest of the family.

*

"Now there are some extra goodies in here, dear, as well as the big tin, so be sure to unpack tonight," Mrs Weasley said as she tapped the hastily wrapped box on the kitchen table. "I've also included the blanket Ginny forgot to pack," she watched anxiously as Hermione proceeded to force the package into her black handbag, "are you sure there's enough room in there?"

"Quite sure, there's quite a bit left," Hermione assured her and the parcel finally slid in with a clunk, "there we go! Thank you so much for the weekend, Mrs Weasley."

"Don't be silly," Mrs Weasley pulled her into a firm hug, "it's a pleasure to have you back, even if it was only for the weekend. Arthur will be down in a moment," she glanced at the clock and then studied the younger woman, a slightly wistful look on her face. "Hermione, dear, you're always welcome here, you must know that ... but I really must insist on something."

"Anything," Hermione said, slightly concerned at what might be coming next.

"You must do away with this Mr and Mrs Weasley business." Molly said sternly. "Arthur quite agrees."

"Arthur quite agrees with what?" The man himself asked from the doorway.

"Oh, there you are!" Molly scolded, "Hermione needs to be back at school in 25 minutes, you do like leaving things to the last minute, don't you?"

"Sorry!" Arthur crossed the room, holding a small, flat package. "What do I agree with dear?"

"That Hermione should call us by our given names," Molly said.

"Oh yes," Arthur agreed, "quite right. Here you are, Hermione," he passed her the package, "no, don't open it now, wait until you're on your own." He leaned down and gave her a quick hug. "Give our love to Ginny, and enjoy the rest of term. We'll see you at Christmas."

"I ... um ... well," Hermione felt a slight prickle of tears form in her eyes, "thank you, Molly and Arthur."

"That's much better," Molly smiled, "now off you go, Ron's waiting in the garden with the others."

*

"About time!" Harry laughed. "You're going to be late if you don't watch it."

"No I'm not," Hermione retorted with a grin, "I'm right on time."

"Of course you are," George agreed, "possibly early."

"I wouldn't go that far," she disagreed. "Now give me a hug, I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Honeybunny," George hugged her firmly and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you next Hogsmeade weekend."

"Alright, alright, don't hog all the action," Charlie pulled George out of the way. "I won't see you at Christmas, Hermione, I won't be able to take the time off," he patted her back, "have a good year."

"Watch out for those dragons," she chuckled as they pulled apart.

"My turn now?" Harry laughed.

"Your turn," Hermione rolled her eyes and opened her arms to him. "I'll see you in Hogsmeade."

"Don't forget to give Ginny the thing," Harry reminded her. "See you."

"I won't forget."

She turned to Ron and took his hand.

"Said goodbye to Percy, Fleur and Bill?" he asked.

"Inside," she told him with a nod.

He sighed heavily. "OK. Let's go."

*

They landed heavily on the cold ground, stumbling slightly.

"Bloody cold," Ron remarked as he peered around and then pulled her into his arms.

"We are in the highlands," Hermione slid her arms around his neck.

"True that," he whispered before pressing his mouth to hers. "Gonna miss you."

"Miss you already," she held on even tighter.

Loud footsteps sounded out in the dark, accompanied by the sight of a bobbing lantern coming in their direction.

"That'll be Hagrid," he cupped her face with his hands and rubbed their noses together. "I love you, Hermione."

"Love you too," she blinked frantically and fisted his jumper in her hands.

The footsteps were coming closer.

Ron caught her dangerously wobbling lower lip with his own and kissed her thoroughly.

Hagrid cleared his throat loudly.

They pulled apart slowly.

"In good time then," Hagrid said, his keys jingling as he unlocked the gate. "Have a good weekend?"

"The best," Hermione breathed, gazing up at Ron as he let her go reluctantly.

"Yeah, it was brilliant," he tried to smile, but really couldn't. "How about you, Hagrid?"

"No bad," Hagrid nodded, "you'll need to go into Professor McGonagall's office when you get up to the castle, 'Ermione, jus so she knows you're on time."

"Of course," she murmured, still gazing at Ron as their fingers slid apart. "I'll see you at Hogsmeade."

"Yeah," he nodded, and finally managed a watery sort of smile. "See you then."

Ron stayed where he was, his hands shoved in his pockets, watching as Hermione and Hagrid were swallowed by the darkness and the light of the lamp made its way up to the castle.

*

"It'll be over before you know it," Hagrid said as they trudged along the driveway.

"It doesn't feel like it," she whispered, wiping her eyes quickly and taking a deep breath. "It feels like forever."

"Now, now," he patted her on the back, inadvertently propelling her forward, "I know it seems like it now, but time gallops along like no-one's business, really." He slowed down as they came to the castle steps. "You'll be alright? Need a minute?"

"No, I'm fine." She smiled up at him gratefully. "Thanks, Hagrid."

"Good girl." They climbed the castle steps and he unlocked the doors to the Great Hall. "Off you go then, password's _punctuality_."

*

"Miss Granger," Minerva allowed herself to smile at the young woman standing just in the door. "In good time, I see. I take it you had an enjoyable weekend."

"Yes, Professor, it was wonderful," Hermione smiled, but Minerva's sharp eyes quickly took in the red-rimmed eyes.

"Never mind, Hermione," Minerva said sympathetically, "you're doing the right thing."

"I know," Hermione agreed, looking slightly surprised – and rightly so, Minerva thought to herself, it wasn't generally her practise to offer unsolicited personal council to her students. "I'd like to thank you again, Professor, for allowing it."

"That's quite alright, Hermione," Minerva said, "now off you go, I'm sure your friends are waiting for you."

"Yes, Professor, thank you." Hermione smiled again and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

"You're going soft in your old age, Minerva," a voice said from the wall behind her.

"Be quiet, Severus," she said lightly, not bothering to turn. "It's good for student morale."

*

"Hermione!" Ginny fairly flew across the common room, just about knocking Hermione down. "At last! I thought you'd never get back."

"But I'm five minutes early!" Hermione protested.

"Don't pay any attention to her," Neville advised from his spot by the fire, "she's been pacing since just after dinner."

"I have not!" Ginny waggled her finger at him. "Only for the last half hour, thank you very much. Now!" She dragged Hermione to their favourite spot. "How was the weekend? You realise, of course, that I've been simply seething with jealousy that you got to go home and I didn't."

"I know," Hermione laughed, "I'm really sorry you couldn't. We had a quiet weekend though, nothing outrageous." She snapped open her bag and pulled out the large parcel. "But I do come with goodies from your Mum. Where are Seamus and Dean?"

"I'll get them," Neville quickly bounded upstairs and reappeared in short order with Seamus and Dean in tow.

"Hermione!" Seamus grinned. "You came back! I thought lover-boy might keep you locked up forever!"

"Oh, you're really funny," Hermione snorted, unwrapping the parcel and handing Ginny her forgotten blanket. "Keep it up and I won't share."

"Yeah, shut up," Dean punched Seamus in the arm, "what have you got?"

"Fudge, biscuits and fruitcake," Hermione said after she opened each tin in turn.

"I miss Mum's cooking," Ginny moaned expressively around a biscuit.

"I think it might be worth moving in," Seamus joked, "if this is what she feeds you, she does even better fudge than Mam," he frowned suddenly, "but don't ever tell Mam I said that!"

"Your life wouldn't be worth living," Dean agreed, cutting a slice of fruit cake. "God, that's nice."

"Hang on," Hermione pulled a larger-still tin from her bag and crossed the room to put it on the desk under the notice-board. "This is for everyone," she announced to the room at large in a slightly stern tone, "but it's not a bottomless tin, so don't let me catch anyone taking too many and not leaving some for everyone else!" She smiled encouragingly at six first-year girls who edged forward. "Go on, they're really good."

"Thanks, Hermione," one of the girls said timidly, "did you make them?"

"Heavens no!" Hermione laughed. "Cooking isn't my forte, Amanda. Ginny's Mum made them."

"Lucky, really," Ginny called across the room, "or we'd all be in the hospital wing by morning, Hermione's cooking is terrible!"

Amanda stared from Hermione to Ginny with wide eyes. "I'll bet it's not," she whispered.

"It is," Hermione chuckled, "but Mrs Weasley's is excellent, so there are no trips to the hospital wing in our immediate future."

"You've got a bit of a fan-club going on," Neville said under his breath when she sat back down, "the first year girls were talking about you all weekend."

"Really?" Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "I'm sure you're exaggerating."

"He's not," Ginny disagreed, smiling at Neville, "but you'll notice that he's neglected to mention the little crowd of boys who hang on _his_ every word."

Neville blushed furiously. "Rubbish."

"No, really," Dean grinned, took another bite of his cake and chewed quickly. "I reckon you two are the most popular Heads this place has ever seen."

"Hardly," Hermione protested and then waved her hand impatiently. "What did I miss this weekend? Anything important?"

"Quiddich training," Seamus gave Ginny a sour look, "our esteemed captain worked us like dogs, to little or no effect."

"It'll be fine," Ginny dropped her voice and leaned forward. "I won't lie, Seamus; I know you're more of a chaser and you're no Harry, but you're not that bad of a seeker – you're quick and you've got good eyes, and that's what we need."

"That's true, mate," Dean said absently, eyeing the fruitcake longingly, "I'm no Ron either, but if the boss say's I'm keeper because I've got a good reach, that's the way it is."

"Exactly," Ginny nodded firmly, "oh, go on, have another slice Dean, everyone can see you eyeballing it."

"I know that, Ginny," Seamus argued, "but you've been seeker before, you should be doing it."

"I'm a better chaser than you are," Ginny stated bluntly, "sorry."

"Yeah, I 'spose," Seamus reached for more fudge.

"With the team the way it is," Neville put in quietly, after glancing over his shoulder, "Ginny's really got the right idea. She's got the strongest players in the best positions. Annie looks like she might shape up to be a good chaser, but I'm so sure about Evan, and your beaters need a lot of work." He shrugged and then grinned at the general looks of astonishment he was receiving. "What? Just 'cause I hate flying doesn't mean that I don't like Quiddich."

"Armchair critic," Hermione said with a grin.

"Huh?" Neville looked blank while Dean burst into laughter.

"Well played, Miss Granger. An arm-chair critic," Dean explained, "for those of you not quite so accustomed to the muggle world, is someone who knows a lot about the game, but can't play it for nuts."

"Oh. Well, that's me then!" Neville agreed cheerfully.

*

"I thought they'd never shut up," Ginny flopped down on her bed as Hermione shut the dorm door behind them.

"Neither did I," Hermione sat a little more carefully and opened her bag again. "Harry sent you something."

"He did?"Ginny took the gaily wrapped tube from Hermione. "What is it?"

"No idea," Hermione told her, "but he made absolutely sure that I wouldn't forget."

Ginny bit her lip and half-smiled, placing it carefully on her pillow. "I'll just ... you know ..."

"I know," Hermione nodded, fully understanding. "Harry also said I'm to tell you about the holiday."

"Ah, yes." Ginny took her shoes off and let them drop with a thump. "Thoughts?"

"It sounds like fun," said Hermione, "Ron and I were planning one anyway. We're going to Cornwall for a couple of weeks, come with us."

"Cornwall?" Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Why Cornwall?"

"Loads of open space, and moors," Hermione said, "do you REALLY want to know?"

"Ugh, this is a Ron and Hermione shagging thing, isn't it?" Ginny wrinkled her nose. "I can do without the mental picture, if you don't mind."

"That's just as well," Hermione said with a chuckle, "I don't really need the details of your escapades either. We'll take side-trips, though; Cornwall will just be our base. We're renting a cottage; it shouldn't be too hard to find one that sleeps four."

*

Hermione waited until they were both safely behind their curtains before taking the small, flat package Arthur had given her. Sliding her thumb under the brown paper, she found an envelope which said _Read First _and yet more wrapping. She read the letter first.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope you enjoyed your weekend and had a nice Birthday. I also hope that you know you're always a pleasure to have around, and that you're always welcome in our home no matter what happens in the future._

_Molly and I wanted you to have this; and would have given it to you much sooner had I not taken it to work for copying and then promptly forgotten that fact in the insanity that the last 18 months has been. However, it's yours now._

_Love_

_Arthur and Molly_

Wondering what on earth it could possibly be, Hermione quickly undid the last of the wrapping paper.

It was a beautifully framed magical photograph.

Running her fingers gently over the glass, she smiled through the tears that streamed unheeded down her cheeks.

"Hello," she whispered and stood the photograph carefully on her night-stand; watching Molly pouring tea from a thermos into four cups as Arthur ran through the picture chasing his hat down the unknown beach, while her Mum and Dad waved and laughed happily at the camera.

* * *

*

*

*

*

_I didn't mean to leave this chapter hanging for so long, sorry!_


	15. Worth It

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Worth It

* * *

_It'll be worth it in the end._

_It'll be worth it in the end._

_It'll be worth it in the end._

_It'll be worth it in the end._

_Keep telling yourself that and you'll believe it again._

He KNEW it would be worth it in the end, really. It just didn't feel like it at that particular moment.

This weekend had almost made it worse, he reflected. Not that he'd ever give it back –fuck no! He'd never give it back.

But he had to get himself together. He couldn't stand outside the Hogwarts gate all night, ten minutes had left his bollocks feeling like they were blue, and he wasn't about to turn up at The Burrow a blubbering mess.

Not with Harry, George and Charlie home.

He used the sleeve of his jumper to dry his eyes. It had been a fucking brilliant weekend.

*

"Alright?" Harry asked as Ron sat in front of the fire.

"Alright," Ron nodded and realised that it was true. At least he'd got extra time with Hermione. Harry, the poor sod, wouldn't see Ginny for weeks yet. "Up for a game?"

"Yeah, why not," Harry shrugged and reached to the bookcase to take down Ron's old chess set.

"Firewhiskey?" Charlie suggested, walking into the front room with George and shaking a bottle.

"Where are Molly and Arthur?" Harry asked.

"Gone for a walk in the orchard," Ron supplied, "they went after I got back."

"Very romantic," George sighed and clutched his heart.

*

"They've fallen asleep," Ron announced redundantly. Harry and Charlie were sprawled on the rug in front of the fire, both of them snoring loudly.

"Lightweights," George muttered, "how d'you think they'd look without eyebrows?"

"Wouldn't make much difference on Charlie," Ron snorted, "but Harry'd look ridiculous."

"Shall we?"

"Better not," Ron shook his head.

"You're no fun," George pulled an exaggerated pout.

"I don't want to accidentally cut their noses off," Ron held out his unsteady hand.

"Mum would have kittens," George agreed, "I'm not in such good shape myself."

"Think of the mess, too. She'd make us clean it up."

"What shall we do then?" George leaned forward expectantly.

"I don't know," Ron shrugged. "Talk or something?"

"What? Share our thought and feelings in a manly manner?" George scoffed.

"Why not? Could be good for a laugh."

* * *

_Dreadful! I've had this sitting and waiting for **days **but totally forgot about it! _


	16. HailstormI

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

A Hailstorm of Owls (I)

* * *

Monday, 21st September, 1998

I really don't know what to say to you, Lee. Hermione said I should try telling you the truth and Ron seems to agree. So I'll tell you the truth.

You asked how I'm going. I'm fine most of the time. When I'm fine it's because of Ron and Hermione, and when I'm not I can count on them to get me through it.

The shop is doing well, and we've got more products in development. Ron's surprisingly talented in marketing and Hermione gives particularly good ethical advice. I've moved back into the flat upstairs, and that's fine most of the time. When it's not so good, I go back to The Burrow and Ron helps me get my head back together again. Now that Hermione's back at Hogwarts, she owls a couple of times a week just to catch up.

Maybe I'm a bastard for this, but I'm going to say it anyway.

When Fred was killed I didn't handle it well. Part of that is because we were always together. You know that as well as anyone. It was strange and wrong for me to have to speak a full sentence, or even finish a thought. I felt like half a person and it REALLY didn't help that my two best friends dropped from the face of the earth when he was gone.

I'm not saying it was easy for you both either, but we could have supported each other.

Maybe it was for the best, in the long run. Hermione was destroyed when she found out her parents had been killed, and I've never seen Ron so worried. I'm not sure I would have been as likely to recognise what she was going though, had I not been at rock bottom myself.

You'll notice there is a lot of Ron and Hermione in this.

What I want to know is where the hell Lee and Angelina have been.

Not just for me. I can accept that I am the lesser twin.

Where were you at his funeral? What happened to you both, that you couldn't even bring yourself to say one last goodbye to our best friend?

That's all I have to say, really.

Owl back, or not, I don't care either way.

George

*

Monday, 21st September, 1998

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Dear Molly and Arthur

There aren't enough words to express the way I feel about what you have done for me.

Not only did Mum and Dad like you both immensely, they also had a great deal of respect for you.

I don't know if they ever discussed it with you, but they were rather frightened of my life in the magical world during my fifth and sixth years at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore explained everything to them, of course, but Mum told me the only thing that put their minds at ease was the knowledge I would be under your care.

I'm sure they'd be very happy to know that I still am.

All I can say is thank you.

Love

Hermione

*

Monday, 21st September, 1998

The Great Hall

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Dear Ron

Dear Ron? Darling Ron? My Ron?

"Dear Ron" seems far too staid and formal. I just wrote to your Mum and Dad, and I started that letter with "Dear Molly and Arthur". I'll write to George sometime in the next few days, and I'll start that with "Dear George".

I love your Mum and Dad, and I love George ... but not the way I love you.

My heart thinks of you as "My Ron", but my head tells me that to think of you in such a manner would denote some sort of ownership, which implies a certain lack of agency on your part.

On the other hand, I feel as though you have allowed me to see the side of you that no-one else knows. Perhaps that side of you is "My Ron"?

Maybe it's just me, but this parting seems much harder than the first. It is for me, at any rate. I've been trying to understand why, but it's alluding me. Thoughts?

I must be SO transparent though. I had both Hagrid and Professor McGonagall (!!!!!) offering me sympathy last night. The first Hogsmeade weekend just seems such a long way away.

And now I feel guilty! Who am I to complain when I just spent the weekend with you? Ginny and Harry didn't even get that ... and I know, although she's not said much about it (aside from a quip about "seething with jealousy"), Ginny is missing everyone just as much as I do.

Now I've got just enough time to get up to the owlery and send this off before Arithmancy – "The Men" (as they are now calling themselves – Neville, Dean and Seamus) have informed me that I have to make sure you know that you're a lucky sod for having the best cook on earth as a mother (the goody tins were popular).

I love you, and promise a far longer (and hopefully far more cheerful) letter next time!

Hermione

*

Monday, 21st September, 1998

Hogwarts Library

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Harry!

The amaryllis is beautiful (and I love the colour, but you already knew that, didn't you?) – which spell did you use to get it to do that? It reminds me a little of the bird in the time room at the Department of Mysteries.

Any news on the October intake yet? As if they'd not let you in, really ... but still, let me know as soon as you've heard anything. Hermione said you'd talked to her about a break after school – she and Ron seem to be all for it ... I don't really care where we go, I just want to get away for a while! Yes, I know that I'm technically "away" now, but it just doesn't count, does it – especially as you're there and I'm here. Anyway, where ever we end up'll be great, and it's not like we can't apparate where ever we want anyway (haha, that was a double negative, wasn't it? Lucky Hermione isn't marking this!).

Our first Quiddich match will be on the 7th of November! I really hope you can make it, but with the way the team is looking at the moment ... well, the less said about that the better. Still, I've got over a month to get them into better shape – Seamus and Dean are pretty good (though Seamus is NOT happy about being seeker, tough really) Annie is passable (as Neville says, she has potential), so there's hope for us yet.

Oh! This is great! Hermione and Neville have _followers_! It's so funny! The first years hang on their every word and just STARE whenever either of them come into the common room. Hermione talked to the first year girls last night (she gave the common room a big tin of biscuits Mum sent), just for a couple of seconds and I swear the lot of them were about to faint.

Anyway, anyway, I've got to press on. I've called training for tonight, which means that I need to get a head start on my DADA homework now (it's lunch) or I'll be all behind (and Hermione will naaaaaag me about it).

Miss you!

Love

Ginny

* * *

_The Easter Holiday is over with (well, one more kid due back at school tomorrow - but the little ones went back today), which hopefully will mean for more consistent updates! Yay!_

_For those wondering: Hermione's parents were killed in a car accident while they were in Australia. See chapter 4 of "Two Weeks" if you've got way too much time on your hands._

_The reviews are great, thanks!_


	17. Agency

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Agency

* * *

The Burrow

'Mione. It's 12.23 am on Monday morning, I'm knackered but I can't sleep. I had a drink (well, more than one) with Harry, Charlie and George, when I got back home from Hogwarts. I was feeling a bit sorry for myself, but then I felt like a complete git because at least I got to see you at all. So yeah. Harry and Charlie passed out, and George and I talked for a bit. Mainly about Lee and Angelina. I think he's going to write to them – tell the truth, like you said. I wish you'd been here, you're so much better at this emotional stuff than I am. (Hah! Remember the teaspoon? I've got a cauldron full of hot strong something for you now!) He says he doesn't care either way, but he's still angry (so am I!) and it might do him some good.

While I'm here and writing! Harry had an idea but I didn't have time to bring it up yesterday because it's one of those things that needs a private conversation. He said that if we want we can share Grimmauld Place with him and Ginny. Apparently Kreacher gave Ginny the idea (or part of the idea, I don't know, ask her). We could take one floor and they could take another, and the downstairs could be the common area. What do you think? I'm not against the idea, though I don't like the place much ... but Harry said that it needs work, so I 'spose he's going to do work on it? It might not be so bad (I can see advantages).

Anyway, I'd better try and get some sleep or I'll be useless at work. I'll finish this sometime today and send it off before dinner so you've got something to read with Tuesday breakfast.

Love you.

Chaos Central (The Shop)

I had to look up agency, because I thought it was like estate or travel, and that didn't make much sense. You've got it a bit wrong (there's a first time for everything). I AM your Ron. Not just the parts I only let you see, but even the ones everyone can. You don't have to worry about my agency, because I know what I'm doing and I don't think it has anything to do with ownership. You're 'Mione (My Knee), and I don't own you – it's an equal thing.

This one has been harder for me too. I think it's because when we said goodbye at the train we (I at least) didn't really know what it was going to be like. I knew it would be hard, yeah, but I didn't really KNOW. But this time, it's only been three weeks (not even that, actually) and we can't see each other for another sixish ... and we know what those three weeks were like. Does that even make sense?

Last night I was thinking of it in MONTHS and that was a really bad idea. Broken down it's not as bad. Six weeks (actually a bit less) until Hogsmeade; another week after that is the first Quiddich for the season (Harry told me at breakfast when he got Ginny's letter), which we'll both come and see. The next Hogsmeade is five weeks later and then a couple of weeks after that is Christmas holidays ... and the year always goes quicker after New Years (I hope!). So with the Hogsmeade weekends and Gryffindor Quiddich we're not doing too badly.

Well, OK. It still stinks – but it's better than 10 months.

Nothing surprises me about Professor McGonagall anymore. Hagrid would get it too – I reckon he's still got something with that Madame Maxime, but it can't really see her giving up on Beauxbaton's to go live in his hut, or him giving up his hut and dangerous (sorry, INTERESTING) creatures to go live in some school in France.

Tell "The Men" (hahahahahaha) that I am the luckiest sod on the planet, but not because Mum's such a good cook (though she is) – and hello to Ginny and Luna (I'll write them something later this week).

Lunch is finished.

I Love you

Ron (Yours)

* * *

_How NOT to write a fanfic: Listen to Skrap Metal. Watch The Boondock Saints, and follow it up with All Saints Day. Then watch Sweeney Todd and The Passion of The Christ. Start reading The Icarus Agenda. Spend a couple of hours on youtube drooling over Dave Grohl and the way Nate Medel handles his bass._

_Note to self: Read Harry Potter books to get back into the right frame of mind!_


	18. 22Sept1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Tuesday 22nd September, 1998

Gryffindor Common Room

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

My Ron (oh, I like that!)

I spoke with Ginny AND Kreacher over lunch, and they explained about Grimmauld Place. You're right; it was Kreacher who gave her the idea (who would have thought, 12 months ago?). It seems that he's missing the place (understandable, it is his home). Harry has told him he is free to stay on at Hogwarts, or to return to Grimmauld Place, as he pleases (and Professor McGonagall agrees); Kreacher has elected to stay at Hogwarts for time being, as Ginny and I are here and Grimmauld Place is uninhabited.

Kreacher's idea was that we (all four of us) could use Grimmauld Place as a town home while we are still "young and carefree" (his words). It appears he's been planning ahead, as he seems to think it would be a good place for us to use as a winter home also, and for when our children (more on this later) are at Hogwarts.

The kitchen and ground floor would be the public area, while Harry and Ginny would use the first floor and we would use the second. Kreacher believes that the third floor would be serviceable for guests ("As there are many Weasley's and friends" - that's a direct quote, incidentally) and the attic area should be converted, at a later date, for the children to use when they reach their teens.

I must say that while I was leery of the idea at first (I don't like the place any more than you do); he makes a very persuasive argument for it. It IS in a good location (although that particular street isn't especially attractive); close to the Ministry and Diagon Alley and also to muggle London. There is also the issue of it being unplottable! Kreacher is of the belief that while the Dark Lord has been vanquished, and things are a lot more peaceful than they have been for many years, it would be to ALL our advantages to maintain residence in a secure location. We have no way, at this point, to know who may be planning what (or if they're planning anything at all); but there are bound to be sections of wizarding society who are less than pleased with the fact that Voldemort was defeated, and the direction Kingsley's Ministry is taking. The four of us are potential targets, still. Particularly Harry.

I wonder if Harry is keen on the idea because it would be quite an insult to the Black family if a pair of blood-traitors and a muggle-born took up residence with Sirius' heir, which I'm quite sure would amuse Sirius greatly – particularly if the place was redecorated, which would be my one condition in regard to moving in (even if I have to do it myself).

There's another thing. I've not said anything about this to Ginny or Kreacher (although Kreacher did infer it when Ginny was talking to Neville), but I think perhaps there is a part of Harry which would like us to move in with him as a sort of extended family unit. Realistically, he didn't have any sort of family, or sense of belonging, until he came into the magical world and Hogwarts in particular. In effect we have been his family for the last eight years, particularly you, and I wonder if he's subconsciously motivated to keeping us around because he had no-one before. Just a thought.

Speaking of families. Kreacher does seem rather keen on children. Honestly, I don't quite know what to make of him sometimes, because I would never have suspected him of it. Regardless of that, he's mentioned them several times and it has started me thinking. It seems extremely pre-emptive on my part, but perhaps now is the right time to discuss it?

I do want children, just not any time soon. I would like to enjoy my youth and get my career off the ground before starting a family, and I don't want it to be a large one. Obviously sometimes things happen, but I don't intend to PLAN a large family. Having said that, I definitely want more than one; I was lonely as a child and wouldn't want to put one of my own through that. Even with cousins, I don't think it would be quite the same (I don't know, I don't have any – but you don't seem to see much of yours).

I know we've touched on the subject before, in vague terms, but I'd really like to know you're views on it.

While you're at it, tell me about work. George mentioned trying out a few new spells with you this week, for something he's developing, how's that progressing? I'm glad George decided to confront Lee and Angelina, by the way, it will be cathartic for him, and I'll admit to being curious as to how they can possibly attempt to justify their abandonment of him.

You're absolutely correct in NOT thinking about this year in terms of months. I was doing that myself, but your way is considerably less depressing.

A huge part of the attraction of moving into Grimmauld Place with you, Harry and Ginny is the idea of privacy whenever we want it ... and the luxury of waking up together at a civilised time of the morning. Maybe you can sound Harry out about what he's planning to do with the place (work and decor wise), because really the only thing holding me back is the oppressive atmosphere.

Now I've got a Charms essay to get started on as soon as I've posted this off.

I love you, My Ron.

Your Hermione.

* * *

_I'm back from the wilds of "No Internet" ... and I come with "gifts", quite a few of them. If they're any good or not, is entirely up to the reader!_


	19. 23Sept1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Wednesday 23th September

The Burrow

So Kreacher's getting all excited about the pitter-patter of little feet in Grimmauld Place, is he?

That's oddly ... well, odd. At least we'd always have a baby-sitter available!

Don't frown like that, I'm joking.

Seriously though, I have no plans to keep you barefoot and pregnant, and I'd like to wait quite a while before anything like that – but not so long that I'm old and grey and bouncing my 2 year old on my gammy knee.

I would have said just one, but if you think just one is lonely (I'll take your word for it, 'cause I obviously have no idea about that) then two is OK. Or three at a push, no more than that though ... that's obviously not including any little surprises thanks to my Weasley Super-Jizz.

In our more immediate future! Harry says he's "having the painters in" at the first opportunity, and we can do "whatever the hell you want" with our floor on Grimmauld Place – well, within reason; he's not keen on the idea of it being painted "70's brown and orange with lime accents" and he'd like us to talk to him before knocking any walls down, but other than that we've got a free reign. The "having the painters in" is obvious enough (although Ginny and Mum always said that to mean something else, which made me laugh like a 12 year old), but I'm lost on "70's brown and orange with lime accents" ... apparently it was a fashion thing? Anyway, it sounds bloody horrible and I'm pretty sure we're safe.

Now that you say it, it's pretty obvious that Harry is probably trying to keep us as a family unit. Can't say I blame him, really. If I'd've been living with the Dursley's for my first 11 years I'd probably feel exactly the same. Do you remember telling Harry that he had a "saving people thing"? He got a bit arsey about that, but it's true. I think his saving people thing has to do with that too. Think about it, living with those people and they're your ONLY FAMILY IN THE WORD; he must've wished that some other family member would suddenly appear out of nowhere and "save" him from the Dursley's. So as soon as he got "saved" by Hagrid, he felt like he had to save anyone who needed it because he knew what it was like to not be saved.

Which makes me wonder about Dumbledore, actually, but I'll save that for later. Remind me!

And yeah, Sirius would love it. We've got to do something about that Black woman's portrait though. Remember when I was talking to the muggle PM in Kingsley's office just before the swearing in? He's got a little portrait that tells him when the Minister is going to floo in, and he said that when he was first there he tried all sorts of things to get rid of it (poor bloke thought he was cracking up). He even got the carpenters in and they couldn't even knock the wall down, so I reckon we're going to have problems getting rid of HER.

Harry thought a really strong silencing charm, but he was down there yesterday and it doesn't bloody work on the old bat (on the up side, it bounced off her and silenced HIM instead and he had to come into work after lunch and get me to fix him, what a laugh!). Pity really, because if that had worked then we could just put a fake wall over that part and not worry about it. So, there's your first job! Figure out how to take down permanently stuck stuff (Flitwick might know, charms are his thing), but don't rush on it or anything. Harry's not so fussed about that stupid family tree thing, because it doesn't actually scream or anything, so a fake wall CAN be shoved over the top.

What else?

George is trying to work out some trick furniture. It's basically the same as the fake wands, but the chair (or whatever, but so far he's trying it on chairs) turns into a rubber chicken, or whatever. It's SORT OF working, but not anywhere near ready for sale yet. Which gives me an idea. Maybe George can come up with something to make permanently stuck things fall off a wall.

Cousins! No, we don't see much of our cousins. They're all older, or younger (some must be about ready to go to Hogwarts actually), which is why we weren't at school with them either. We used to see them a bit, but once Harry started coming for holidays Mum and Dad decided it was best to keep to ourselves more. Now that the war's over, I suppose someone will re-start the Weasley family picnic. There are quite a few of them (you know that, you were at the wedding), so once or twice a year is really enough (I think).

Anyway, it's getting late and George is planning a really early start in the morning.

I hope you have a good day, 'Mione.

Don't forget that I love you ... Merlin, the idea of being able to wake up with you ... that'll keep me going to ages.

Ron


	20. 24Sept1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

"_I think it's time I took you to bed, Miss Granger."_

"_That's a good idea, Mr Weasley," Hermione smiled up at him, absently running her fingers over the top two buttons of his shirt. "I am so dreadfully tired, but can you help me with this first?" She lifted the box with her free hand._

_Ron took the bracelet from its box and held it carefully. "Right or left?"_

"_Left," she said, promptly holding out her wrist and watching his face as he fumbled the delicate piece slightly while securing the clasp._

"_Good," he nodded firmly and took her hand to hold her arm up a little higher in the moonlight. "Very pretty."_

"_It is," Hermione agreed, "I can't believe you saw me admiring it, I thought I was being discreet."_

"_Hmmm," Ron pressed his lips on the inside of her wrist gently. "I was talking about your arm," he chuckled, "but yeah, the jewellery's good too. Oh, that reminds me! Fleur said I have to tell you that these are wizard found diamonds, not muggle ones. She thinks that is something you would find important."_

"_These are real diamonds?" Her eyes widened._

"_Yeah," Ron nodded casually, slightly amused at her expression. "Why?"_

"_I assume they're not regulated by DeBeers?" _

"_I don't even know what that means," he chuckled, "you'd best talk to Fleur about it; it's her sort of thing."_

"_I will," she took both his hands in hers and pulled him over to her bed. "I thought you were going to take me to bed, Mr Weasley."_

"BLOODY FUCKING HELL!"

Hermione's eyes flew open as she sat bolt upright, looking around in alarm and confusion. "WHAT? WHAT?"

"Have you seen the time?" Ginny's hair flew behind her as she sprung from her bed and half ripped off her pyjama's while searched frantically for her uniform.

"SHIT!"

"Made it," Hermione whispered as she and Ginny slid into their usual places at the Gryffindor table.

"Where the hell did you learn that spell?" Ginny demanded as they both filled their plates with toast, eggs and bacon. "I've never seen anything like it."

"It's something I've been working on," Hermione blushed as she poured herself a large mug of coffee.

"Well it's dead useful," Ginny breathed, "you'll have to show it to me."

"That's actually the reverse spell," Hermione lowered her voice and grinned, "I'll show you both."

"The rev ... ooooh!" Ginny laughed loudly. "That's bloody fanastic!"

Thursday 24th September, 1998

7th Year Girls Dorm

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

My Ron, we have an accord. I love it when that happens.

About George's chairs. Tell him to make sure there's some sort of cushioning charm, so people don't hurt themselves, or he might find himself in legal trouble. What is the theory behind the fake wands? Is it transfiguration or charming? Perhaps what's needed for better control is to reverse the process. I'm sure you'll both figure it out.

I was thinking about HER and it sounds like there's a protego charm involved, which may be the key to cracking the problem. I had a word with Professor Flitwick, and he couldn't think of anything on the spot, but said he'd have a think about it and let me know, because now his curiosity is piqued. I'd like to have another look at her myself. If you've got no objections, I thought we might pop down there for an hour on the next Hogsmeade weekend. I've looked at the rules, and there's nothing there about not being allowed to leave Hogsmeade but I'll double check with Professor McGonagall, of course. It also occurred to me that as a curse breaker, Bill might have some useful input with the matter.

Kreacher worries me. He's getting on a bit, after all, and I'm worried that he'll throw himself headlong into work and do himself damage. I realise he's completely against the idea of being free, and I can even accept that it wouldn't be the best thing for him at his age. Even so, it doesn't sit well with me. I also don't know how he's going to react to the idea of removing HER – despite the fact that his loyalty is now with Harry, he did genuinely love her and I suspect it would upset him. BUT I have no intention of creeping around Grimmauld Place and being subjected to a barrage of abuse from a portrait! Ginny agrees.

Speaking of Ginny. We were in the kitchens last night, visiting Kreacher, and we saw Winky. It seems that without Dobby there to look after her, she's gone even further downhill. The other house elves have washed their hands of her completely, aside from Kreacher – and he said he is close to doing the same thing, as she is almost impossible to deal with, but he will persevere because Harry has told him to. Honestly, after all these years, you'd think something could be done for her.

We're having dinner with Hagrid tomorrow night, and meeting Neringa. That should be interesting. Wish me luck.

Just between you and me, I wonder a lot of things about Dumbledore. It amazes me that Harry could have been SO angry with him, and questioned everything about him, over something Dumbledore did when he was a teenager – yet he's never said a word against him for leaving him with those people.

In the end it all worked out for the best – even his "saving people thing" – but I would have thought Dumbledore could have taken a little more interest in Harry's life before he came to Hogwarts, given that he must have had an inclination as to what type of people the Dursley's were. I know now that Mrs Figg was there to keep an eye on Harry, but just what could she do?

I don't know, perhaps I'm being too harsh – and I realise that Dumbledore had a lot of other things to keep him occupied; but he managed to send that howler to Mrs Dursley when they were about to throw Harry out of the house, and I can't see how Dumbledore wouldn't have had time to just ... I don't know ... pop in occasionally, and make sure they were treating Harry decently.

There! I've wanted to say that for a long time – but I'm obviously not going to bring it up with Harry, because it's really none of my business.

On to more fun things (well, it was frustrating actually). I was dreaming about you this morning, about us, the night you gave me my birthday present (I wear it every day, by the way, although technically speaking it's a uniform infraction, so I make sure to keep it well covered). You were just about to take me to bed when I woke up to the sound of Ginny swearing her head off because we'd both slept through the alarm.

Promise me one thing. If we DO move into Grimmauld Place, we will have a sleep-in at least once a week (maybe on Sundays) and there will be no siblings, parents or alarms, or anything like that, to interrupt us.

Would it be out of order to tell you that the thought made me stop writing for a little while, seal my curtains shut, cast a very strong muffliato and "take care of myself"? Because that's what just happened. Do you remember that day in July? When we found the shop in Manchester with the funny pink door (as if you would forget!)? Do you remember what we did later that night, with our purchases? I was thinking of that. Not quite the same, unfortunately, but it was better than nothing ... and I'm going to be struggling to get everything cleaned up before Ginny comes back from Quiddich practice. My legs are like jelly.

Merlin's pants, Ronald Weasley, I love you.

Your Knee.


	21. 25Sept1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Friday 25th September

Lunch Room

Weasley's Wizard Wheezers

Sweet Circe, 'Mione, I was reading your letter during my tea break and had to go to the loo for a quick wank.

AS IF I'd forget that shop, or what went on after ... or the sounds you made. Right, that's enough of that, or I'll never get this finished and I'm writing it over lunch hour so I can send it on the way to Andromeda's and you can have it tomorrow. What was that thing you said people get with their joints when they use the same ones too much? SRI or something? Whatever it's called, I'm going to get it in my wrist pretty soon. At least Harry has Percy's old room now.

Thinking about Harry is an instant de-boner.

Everything that you said, about Dumbledore, I've thought it too. But it kind of makes sense, if you look at it like a giant game of chess. He had to put Harry somewhere safe, so he went to the Dursley's because of that blood protection thing from Harry's Mum. Voldemort might not have come back, but Dumbledore thought that he probably would (and was right), so he didn't have much choice about that.

Dumbledore seemed to know everything that went on, so I really doubt that he didn't know what the Dursley's were like – he even knew when we borrowed Dad's car and rescued Harry that time just before second year, because Harry's Hogwarts letter came with ours not long after we got in.

That's where it gets muddy. Did Dumbledore trust the Dursley's to just get over themselves and do the right thing (like with Snape, although it ends up he was doing the right thing too, even if he was an arse – but that's another story), or did he know that they'd treat Harry like shit? I suppose he really had no reason to think they'd treat him like shit.

Look at the Malfoy's. They're bloody awful people, but I doubt they locked Draco in the cupboard under the stairs and fed him table scraps or whatever. Maybe that's not a good example though, because the Dursley's basically did with Dudley what the Malfoy's did with Draco ... and I'm not sure how the Malfoy's would deal with a muggle kid if they were forced to look after one. Who do we know that's snobby but not bigoted? I was going to say Zach Smith, but I don't know him well enough to say he's not bigoted. Maybe it's something that goes hand in hand?

Aunt Muriel! She doesn't care what someone's blood status is, or how much money they have, or anything like that, she's rude to everyone! There's a thought. Maybe Dumbledore should have left Harry with her – she could have just bitched Voldemort into submission ... and Mum says that Muriel was a Hit Wizard before she retired at 70. What a thought. Pity she was before Voldemort's time, she and Mrs Longbottom would have sorted him. Mrs Longbottom's one who strikes me as a bit snobby, but she's not bigoted at all (and she's a bit nicer than Aunt Muriel).

What was my point?

Dumbledore and Harry. Yeah, I don't know. It DOES kind of make sense to me, looking at the bigger picture – but I can't exactly explain why (clearly haha), at least not on paper. That doesn't mean that I like it all that much, but if it had to be done what else was he going to do?

I've got an idea about Winky, and I'm sure you won't like it.

Find out from her (or Kreacher, whatever), if it's because she's still really missing Crouch, or if it's because she really ashamed of being free. DON'T act like you feel sorry for her, even though you do (so do I actually, it's rotten what happened to her). If it's mostly because of Crouch, then there's not much that can be done, but if it's mostly because she's ashamed of herself (and it will be a bit of both, so good luck working it out, I doubt I'd be able to) then that's not so bad.

Here's the bit you're not going to like. Offer her a position at Grimmauld Place. Tell her that Grimmauld Place already has an elf, but Kreacher is Harry's elf. It would probably be useful to say that you think Kreacher will need the help, but make it like a secret and tell her not to tell him you said so (and don't let him hear either, but it might be a good idea to talk to him first and tell him that you're going to ask her) and tell her that she'd have to give up her clothes. DO NOT MENTION PAYING HER. Of course we WILL pay her, but we don't have to call it pay. It can be "house keeping" or something like that ... and I'm pretty sure we can come up with some kind of house-elf get-up that is so close to clothes that they might as well be. If she agrees, you can tell her you expect her to start looking after herself properly.

I'll expect your howler by tomorrow lunch (in it, tell me how dinner went with Hagrid).

But just think it over, OK? It would be less work for Kreacher, and it might help Winky.

Back to Harry. We were talking about HER. There's no way she's staying up in the hall, Harry says, even if he has to knock the whole house down and start again (I think he was exaggerating?). BUT he agrees that Kreacher might take it badly. There's also the thing about all the dead-elf heads on display (who would think that's a good idea?), they're his family so they can't really be got rid of either.

Harry's decided that he's going to wall off and add a door to that part of the room that the stupid family tree is in. That can be Kreacher's new room, and if he wants HER she can go in there with the elf heads. It's going to make the room smaller, but it's big anyway, so that won't make much difference – and I think he mentioned something about taking out another wall and extending something else, I don't know.

For all of that, he said he's got no intention of actually moving in there until he's finished with auror training. He's going to ask Ginny to marry him when she's finished with Hogwarts this year (FORGET I SAID THAT!!!), and if she says yes (hahaha, 'cause she'd say no?) they'll have a long engagement when he's training and she's trying out for the Harpies and then playing Quiddich if she gets in (I reckon she might be in with a chance, too), and then they'll get married and move into Grimmauld Place. With us, if we go ... which it seems like we are, aren't we?

Anyway, apparently she's all for all of that, including living at The Burrow for a few more years (they're MENTAL!), but she doesn't know about the engaged and married bit – he said they've talked about it in general, and agreed about it, but nothing official.

There's more Grimmauld Place stuff, but I've run out of lunch hour and Harry's almost ready for us to go visit Teddy and Andromeda, so I'll tell you in my next letter (remind me). Please try not to be too pissed off about the Winky thing, it's just a suggestion.

Always yours, I love you.

Ron


	22. 26Sept1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Saturday 26th September

The Library

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

You're absolutely right, Ron, I hate the idea about Winky. BUT I can see the logic, so I'll think about it.

You're still My Ron, and I'm impressed (but not surprised!) that you've come up with such a workable plan. I just have a huge problem with the concept of owning a house-elf, particularly as I intend to work for their betterment when I'm finished here.

Now, my love, you need to learn to focus. I'm interested in what you've got to say about Dumbledore and Harry, but I'll never find out what it is if you keep on going off on your tangents. I truly can't see where you're going with it, but I've been told (more than once) that I'm quite an idealistic and literal person so you're going to have to spell it out. When you get around to it. You realise I'm only teasing, right? I love your tangents.

I like Harry's idea of making a room for Kreacher. Don't forget to tell me about the other "Grimmauld Place Stuff".

I think we can officially say that we're moving in there, so here's the next question:

How are your Mum and Dad going to take it? I don't know if Harry and Ginny staying at The Burrow will work to our advantage or not; by taking the pressure off because they've still got someone home, or by putting the pressure on because if they can stay why can't we?

Obviously Harry and Ginny must do as they please, and we will do the same; but after everything they've done for me, I really don't want to hurt or offend your parents.

Clearly, this isn't a howler, but you asked about dinner at Hagrid's.

It was much better than I expected. Grawp is doing well, and has progressed to tying his own shoelaces and speaking in full (but short) sentences. He's still calling me "Hermy", but I suppose Hermione is a bit difficult for him.

Neringa was surprising and more than a little confusing. She's about where Grawp was around the time of Dumbledore's funeral, but she's very friendly – although I KNOW that she can definitely take care of herself.

She was very interested in our hair, particularly Ginny's, and loves the flower-print dress that Hagrid made for her (but she's yet to come around to the idea of shoes). Oh, she also has more of a grip on the concept of personal space than Grawp does and has no problem physically removing Grawp if he's about to sit on someone (which Seamus is quite grateful for), although her way of doing it is to punch Grawp in the face and scold loudly.

Grawp promptly punched her right back (oh, did I mention that she's about half a foot taller than he is?) and said "Sorry I almost sat on you" to Seamus. It was slightly alarming, but they (Grawp and Neringa) carried on drinking their tea (from buckets) as if nothing had happened.

After dinner they said goodnight very politely (and Grawp managed "Nice to see you all again"), and were holding hands as they cut through the forest to get back to their cave. It was rather sweet. Even so, I wouldn't like to be around when they're having an argument.

I think that's about all I've got to say. I spent this morning in the library doing homework with Ginny and Luna, and this afternoon Luna and I watched Quiddich training with Neville. We're in the library again, because Luna can't come into the Gryffindor Common Room (I intend to discuss that issue with Professor McGonagall quite soon); and by the sounds of it Luna and Ginny have finished their letter writing as well, which means that it's time to send this off and then head down to dinner.

I miss you.

Love

Hermione

PS. It's called RSI (Repetitive Strain Injury) and I'm going to end up with it myself, if I'm not careful! How long until we see each other again?

PPS. I forgot about Teddy and Andromeda! How are they? Is he getting even bigger?

* * *

_That should tide you over for a few minutes. I'm off to do the food shopping._


	23. 27Sept1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Sunday 27th September, 1998

The Orangest Bedroom

The Burrow

Too long 'til we see each other again, Hermione, way too long. It sounds like Grawp and Neringa are getting more action than we are at the moment, the lucky sods. A girly giant. That's not something I would never have thought of, but good job dinner went well (and no one was sat on,I'm trying not to laugh, really).

Before I forget (again), I have no problem going to Grimmauld Place for a bit on the Hogsmeade weekend. Have you checked with McGonagall? Harry's in the middle of writing to you about all that, so I'll leave him to tell you everything.

Teddy is HUUUUUGE! He's also crawling. Fast. We spent the afternoon inside and Harry basically chased him around the house (on his hands and knees, hahaha). The kid is going to be really good at hiding when he gets older. I don't know what I was so worried about, with Andromeda, she's great. She's also got this really nice tea-set and ... I swear I'm turning into an old woman or something, when are we going linen shopping?

So yeah, it was fun and they're both good. They're coming over for lunch today, with Kingsley. Harry reckons there's something going on there, but George said that if there is they don't know about it. I think they're both right. He's a bit keen, but he's waiting on it because she's still mourning. She likes him too. She mentioned him a few of times on Friday afternoon but not in any kind of lover way, just a really good friend way ... but maybe later on, who knows?

Yeah, I know, I'm doing it again. Have Neville and Hannah got past the flirting stage yet? I might as well jump in with both feet. Dean and that Valerie girl? In for a penny, in for a pound. What about McGonagall and Flitwick? Pince and Filch? Has Seamus got his beady little eye on anyone?

AND WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT LUNA?!?!?!?!

Good. That's got that out of my system.

Love you, 'Mione.

Your Ron.

* * *

Dear Resident Genius!

You are a complete genius, even if you are not currently in residence. Reversing the process was exactly what was needed and I don't know how the hell we ever got anything done without you. Also, the cushioning charm is a must, thanks for reminding me.

I haven't heard back from Lee or Angelina and I couldn't give a rat's either way. Again, though, you were completely right (because you're a genius) and I felt much better after replying.

You and ickle Ronniekins are up to something (more than usual!), so fess up. I've got a pretty good idea what it is anyway, and I may well be able to help smooth the way for you.

I'm glad you (mostly) enjoyed the latest daydream charm, and all suggestions have been taken on board – particularly as Ginny made the same ones.

Have a good week, sunshine!

Love

George

* * *

Dear Hermione

Just a quick one to let you know that Ron and I have come to an agreement that no one is paying anyone anything. Well, I'm paying for the building and painting, but you two get the joy of dealing with the builders and painters and making sure that everything's done right.

I'd like to get things moving just after the New Year, so Ron's going to have to deal with the everyday stuff, because I'm going to be busy with auror training (I GOT MY LETTER TODAY, YES!!! I start on Monday week!). The first year of training is pure study, and I get to come home on the weekends, but I'll be on site at the Ministry during the week – which is why Ron's got the foreman's job. I get three weeks off over Christmas/New Year, three weeks over Easter and all of September, so we can work something out. I want your floor done first so that it'll be ready for you to move in whenever you're ready. Whatever you want done up there is fine with me; just let me know if it involves taking down walls and such, so we can make sure the building is up to it.

Honestly, I wouldn't think it would take that long and I'm really hoping that even our floor will be at least part done by September, because living with painters and builders tracking through the house probably won't be that much fun for you. Kreacher thinks that there are plans somewhere in the library. They're probably ancient, but I'll still have a look around for them this week because they'll be handy to have. If I find them, I'll send a copy for you and Ginny. That way we'll have an idea of what's going to get done and we can finalise it over Christmas.

Now, Hermione, I've a question. How should I go about this? Muggle or Magical?

Both options have their own set of problems; the Muggle ones are obvious, even though I'm leaning that way at the moment. If I go Magic, I'm not sure what to do with all of the security spells. I can lift them all and then put them back – but I don't think I want that many people to know our location.

Any idea's you have would be great, because when I asked Ron he said "Ask Hermione", and Ginny will probably say the same thing.

Which reminds me! Because of auror training, Ginny and I are going to have to take our holiday in September – when were you lot thinking of going? I did ask Ron, but he was vague and said to ask you (I don't know why I bother talking to him when he's writing to you, you'd think I'd know better by now).

Anyway, time to go. Ron and George are waiting for my letters so we can send them all off together.

Love

Harry


	24. 28Sept1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Monday 28th September, 1998

Gryffindor Common Room

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

My Ron

You are a gossiping old woman and it sounds as though Harry and George are almost as bad!

Neville and Hannah are progressing along quite nicely, in their own quiet way. She had breakfast at the Gryffindor table this morning and I'm SURE they were holding hands under the table! He carries her books for her, and I've seen her brush dirt from his face more than once in Herbology. It's really the very sweetest thing ... and I'm rather tempted to gush, but I won't because that would draw attention to them, which I don't think they want.

Dean and Valerie are quite another matter altogether. I almost gave them a detention on Saturday night, because I kept on coming across them in various disused classrooms. I'm tempted to remind them, for the sake of my sanity and my eyes, just where the room of requirement is. Of course I WON'T, but it's still tempting.

Seamus is a complete Casanova and seems to have his eye on someone different every week (but thankfully not Luna). It's not helped at all by the fact that he's becoming rather popular with the sixth year girls (and a few of the fifth and seventh year girls too), who like to watch him at Quiddich practice. Have you ever heard of groupies? Seamus has groupies – and suddenly is MUCH happier to be the Gryffindor Seeker. He claims it's his Irish Charm and he really lays it on thick sometimes. Honestly, it's rather amusing to watch, and he's promised me (under threat of detention and dismemberment - and Ginny's bat-bogey for added measure) that he won't cross any lines.

I'm not even going to dignify the idea of Professors McGonagall and Flitwick with a remark - but it's not the first time I've heard the Pince and Filch theory; one wonders if it might be possible to actually get them together? Perhaps they'd be easier to get along with.

Professor McGonagall tells me it is perfectly acceptable for of-age students to leave Hogsmeade for a couple of hours on Hogsmeade weekends, as long as the student in question is back in Hogsmeade by 3pm.

Professor Slughorn has sent out his first dinner party invitations for the year. I don't particularly want to go, but Neville and Luna made Ginny and I promise we would.

It's great news that Harry's starting training! I'm about to write to him next. I've got no objections to our holiday being in September and I'm assuming you don't by the fact that you told Harry to ask me, so you two can sort it out between yourselves.

George, being the overly clever person he is, has told me that he's aware we're "up to something", and has offered to "smooth" our "way". I'm not entirely sure what he means by that, but talk to him and let him know what's going on.

Now I've got that other letter to write, and then about 12 feet of essays to get started.

Suddenly I'm feeling sappy and miss you even more than usual.

I love you, Ron.

Hermione

* * *

Dear Harry

Congratulations on getting into Auror Training! I know you'll do well!

I have good news!

You seem to have forgotten, or perhaps you didn't know, that Mr Thomas is a painter and Mr Finnegan is a builder. The best of both worlds! I think they would be the best option (assuming they're free at the time), because they're aware of the magical world (we'd have to go through Grimmauld Place with a fine-tooth comb before we had muggle tradespeople in) and I seriously doubt they'd be a security risk.

Think it over, and if you're willing I'll ask Dean and Seamus for their contact information.

It also occurred to me that your cousin Dudley might be useful in some way, with his contacts in hardware, but I'll leave that up to your discretion.

September is perfectly acceptable for our holiday. Ron knows where I want to go and you know where Ginny wants to go, so we'll leave you both to work out the details.

Now here's a question for YOU.

Ron has suggested (for a variety of reasons) that I offer Winky a position at Grimmauld Place. As much as I dislike the idea, I am seriously considering it (again for a variety of reasons). I don't know, yet, if I will or not, but I thought it best to get your opinion on it as Grimmauld Place is yours.

Now I must dash! Ginny is tapping her foot impatiently at me, as we are sharing an owl and she wants to send her letters off.

Love

Hermione

* * *

To My Favourite Chosen One

I KNEW YOU'D GET IN!!

As if they wouldn't take you! Even if you weren't Harry Potter, they would have taken you 'cause you're just THAT GOOD!

The picture of Teddy is gorgeous! I can't believe he's crawling already, and he's so big! Tell Andromeda that I really miss her cakes and our chats.

Hermione found out that over-agers can leave Hogsmeade for a couple of hours on Hogsmeade weekends. I know she and Ron are planning to go have a look at that screaming old bag, and Merlin knows what else they're going to get up to (I really don't need the visual, you know?), so I'd suggest we avoid Grimmauld Place.

That doesn't mean that I don't think we shouldn't take a leaf out for their book. What about a nice, secluded beach somewhere? Hermione also taught me a wicked little charm that I'm dying to try out on you and I swear you're going to love it.

I have to tell you! Neville and Hannah are SO CUTE that I just might have to die on the spot! They think no-one knows, but it's SO OBVIOUS they're together. I had to threaten Seamus with death so that he wouldn't tease them – poor sod, Hermione had already threatened him with detentions and such because the man is such a tart with all the sixth year girls.

Quiddich training is going great-guns. Your idea of training every third night has worked out really well, so I'll follow your advice and go to every second night two weeks before a game and every night a week before.

Vince and Robert are now really average beaters, instead of useless (they'll never be Fred and George, but we can't have everything, you know?) Evan is slowly starting to improve and Annie is shaping up to be a damn good little chaser. Dean's pretty good as a keeper – not as good as Ron when Ron's on form, but a lot better than Ron when Ron wasn't on form, so it all evens out. Now that Seamus (officially now known as That Irish Man-Tart) has stopped bitching, he's a bloody good seeker (which might have something to do with the bevy of girls that like to watch training – SO annoying). He'll never be YOU of course, but I think he'll win us a few.

I've got about 50 tonnes of homework to do, and I still have to send a quick note to Ron, so I'd better go. Hermione is scratching away and smiling like a mad thing, so she's obviously writing to Ron too ... are we SURE we want to go on holidays with them? It's sickening. HAH! Only joking.

"Only" a monthish until we see each other again. I miss the hell out of you and you clearly need to be taken in hand if you think that you're not going to be any good at this Auror business. I have absolute faith in you, so don't you dare tell me I'm wrong!

Love you to the end of the world and back!

Ginny

* * *

Hello Git

Don't worry, Hermione is fine and not working herself into a conniption (yet) - but I've never done so much fucking homework in my life, any advice on how to calm that down? My marks have never been better, but it's driving me mental.

Harry's having a bit of a moment, thinking he's only got into Auror Training because he's "Harry Potter", and I'm sure he's said nothing to you about it ... so sort it out (and don't say you know, blah blah blah).

We've had our weekly letters from the rest of the family. Everyone say's they're good, but is there anything I need to know? I didn't get any undercurrents or anything, but you know how it goes.

You look after our boy, and I'll look after our girl.

Love

Ginny


	25. 29Sept1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Thanks Brat

He didn't say a word, but he get's that look, you know? Now don't YOU worry, he'll be fine and I'll keep an eye on him until he goes. I don't know how it's going to work when he's away during the week, but he'll be here on weekends so I think it'll be alright.

About the homework, yeah, that can be a problem. If it's getting too much only do what you REALLY have to for week, and ease off the extra stuff (or stick to just reading, it's easy to doze off).

Everything here is good. You didn't get any undercurrents 'cause there are no undercurrents to be got.

Love

Ron

* * *

Tuesday 29th September, 1998

Lunch Room

Weasley's Wizarding Wheezers

'Mione

All I want to do is go home, have something to eat and then go to bed. No, that's not true actually. What I WANT to do is sit on front of the fire like we usually do, and you can read one of your books while I either talk to George or play chess with Harry (or both).

It's been a bit of a day. Not a bad one or anything, just a busy one. I couldn't even tell you what happened, it just WAS.

I did end up talking to George over lunch though, and yeah, the smart-arsed git had figured us out. No surprise there. He's also going to try figure out something to get HER off the hallway wall. Between the two of you, the old bag doesn't have a hope.

Good on Nev and Hannah, that's all I can say. Harry tells me that Ginny has christened Seamus "That Irish Man-Tart" and from what you said that sounds about right. I had to laugh about you reminding Dean and Valerie about the Room of Requirement – I'm sure it must be against some sort of rule, but Dean's not stupid and will probably remember in his own time.

There's this woman who keeps on coming into the shop for skiving snack-boxes, at least once a week and sometimes twice. I thought she might fancy Charlie or something (she's probably in her 30's), but I don't think that's it because she doesn't seem to care who serves her. Has there been a rise in the rate of skiving kids at Hogwarts? Somehow I don't think there's a big black market in them or anything, but it's a bit strange. I pointed it out to George and he can't think of anything either, but he reckons it's odd too.

Anyway, lunch is finished so I'd better get back to it.

Did you know that if I imagine it hard enough, I can almost feel your hair?

I love you

Ron

* * *

Chaos Central

A gift for my two best girls.

Your lovelorn wanker boyfriends gave me the idea for this, although they don't know it; I'll tell you that it took some doing (not in the least the consumption of some seriously dodgy firewhiskey with Aberforth), and it was all cloak and dagger stuff, so they've got no idea.

Ginny, yours is the one with the indigo frame (I still think it's purplish blue, but if you say it's called indigo I'll take your word for it) because I know it's your favourite colour.

Hermione, yours is the sunset one (again, orange in my opinion, but what do I know?) because you seem to like having orange things attached to your person.

I've made them unbreakable, so everything should be roses.

Percy helped with this, so we both expect your eternal love and devotion forever and ever amen.

Because I'm a natural born showman, I'll be putting two wrapped brown packages in front of the aforementioned lovelorn wanker boyfriends at breakfast – around the time you both should be reading this letter. I suggest that you open your packages right NOW, and you'll know what to do.

Love

Genius George (and Perfect Percy)


	26. Tuesday Suprise

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

A Tuesday Surprise

* * *

"Morning Mum," Ron mumbled as he shuffled into the kitchen and looked around blearily. "George, Percy ... you're in early."

"It's a lovely day, sonny!" George grinned.

Ron glanced out the window. "It's overcast and looks like it's going to bucket down."

"Yes, wonderful rain," Percy agreed, "the giver of life and all things green and good."

"Right." Ron eyed them suspiciously as he took his seat.

"Here you are dear," Mrs Weasley placed a plate laden with sausages and eggs in front of him. "Did you sleep well?"

"Is Harry on his way down?" George asked, glancing at his watch.

"Shower," Ron mumbled around a mouthful of sausage. "Thanks Mum."

"That won't do," Percy grumbled.

"Would you care to do the honours?" George chuckled.

"Certainly!" Percy took out his wand and pointed it toward the ceiling. His muttering was soon followed by a surprised shriek and the sound of water quickly being turned off.

"Percy! Whatever are you doing?" Mrs Weasley demanded in a shocked tone.

"I'm sorry, Mother, but he must be hurried along," Percy told her before taking a dignified sip of his tea. "I've a busy day ahead."

"Good morning," Mr Weasley came through the back door with more eggs, "did I just hear screaming?"

"Yes dear," Mrs Weasley frowned, "apparently Percy has a very busy day ahead, so decided to hurry Harry along with his shower by making the water cold."

"Percy?" Mr Weasley tried to cover an amused look as he glanced from Percy to George and back again. "What are you two up to?"

"All in good time," George said with a meaningful look at the top of Ron's head.

"Oh," Mr Weasley looked at Ron, who was too busy shovelling down his breakfast to pay any attention to the goings-on.

"What's all the racket?" Charlie wanted to know, having just followed his father inside.

"I think there's something wrong with the water," Harry said as he came into the kitchen, "it went all cold."

"You scream like a girl," Ron remarked.

"Never mind dear," said Mrs Weasley, while giving George and Percy an odd look, "sit down and have some breakfast."

"OH! I SAY!" Percy was pointing out of the kitchen window. "Look at that!"

Everyone but George, who was quickly pulling two flat packages from under his robes and sliding them across the table to sit by the tea-pot, turned to look.

"Sorry," Percy said, shrugging, "false alarm."

Mrs Weasley frowned at Percy and George heavily, but they were spared her potential remarks by the arrival of Bill and Fleur.

"Nice one," muttered George under the general hubbub of greetings.

"I try my best," Percy whispered jauntily, and then checked his watch. "The post should be arriving any moment now. You're sure they'll open your letter first?"

"No doubt," George looked slightly smug. "I put the letter in a fluorescent orange envelope, when it gets delivered it'll sing 'Me First I'm Important' repeatedly until it's opened."

"That sounds annoying in the extreme," said Percy.

"That's the entire point," George grinned.

"_Harry? Ron?"_

"Did you hear that?" Percy whispered.

"I heard," George rolled his eyes, "but no one else will if they don't shut up." He shook his head in aggravation. "Hey! What was that? Did anyone else hear something?"

"I did!" Percy said loudly. "Everyone hush for a moment!"

"_Ron. Harry."_

"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron dropped his toast.

"Ginny?" Harry said uncertainly.

"_Harry!" Ginny's voice said, sounding somewhat muffled._

"_RON!" Hermione's voice was much clearer._

"Hermione?" Ron looked around frantically and glared at Percy and George as they burst into laughter. "Stop laughing and tell us!"

"They've nearly worked it out, my lovelies," George said loudly, "give them another minute."

Hermione's laughter could be heard ringing through the kitchen.

"_Come on Harry," Ginny's voice coaxed, "use your eyes!"_

"Oh, for Merlin's Sake!" Percy shook his head in disgust and pointed at the table.

Ron and Harry swooped down on the packages and tore them open.

"Oh! Hi Ginny!" Ron laughed and shoved the mirror he was holding at Harry, and took the other one from Harry's hands. "HERMIONE!"

"Our work here is done," George said, grinning broadly as the kitchen seemed to explode with greetings and laughter.

"There's nothing quite like a successful start to the day," Percy agreed, "but I've really got to get to work, come and say hello with me and then I'll be off."

"You know, Percy," George said as they made their way around the table, "you're not so bad, for a poncy rule follower."

"It's funny you should say that, George," Percy replied loftily, "you're not so bad yourself, despite your rabble-rousing tendencies."

...

"_HERMIONE!"_

"Ron!" Hermione beamed at his image in the mirror.

"Oh, this is bloody brilliant!" Ginny said to Harry, all smiles.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, confused; while Hermione and Ginny spoke to the objects in their hands, and what sounded like a room full of people talked back.

"Two way mirrors," Luna told him. "That's very clever," she added, bending over between Ginny and Hermione's shoulders to take a closer look. "Hello, everyone."

"_Hi Luna!" Ron and Harry said together, just as Percy and George appeared at their sides._

"You two!" Ginny burst out.

"What was it again?" Hermione asked. "Eternal love and devotion?"

_Percy and George nodded._

"You absolutely have it!" Ginny grinned.

"Forever and ever, amen." Hermione said firmly.

* * *

Hermione and Ginny fairly floated through their day, both of them unable to stop smiling and even bursting into uncontrollable giggles whenever they came across each other in corridors or during breaks between lessons.

They both bolted their dinner, much to the general amusement of the Gryffindor table, and were back in the common room feverishly writing essays by 6.00pm.

At 6.30 the common room was full, thanks to the grape-vine being as efficient as ever.

By 8.00 Hermione and Ginny were surrounded by their friends – even Luna, who had received special permission from Professor McGonagall to be there - and were cheerfully gossiping with Harry, Ron, George and Charlie.

9.30 came and Neville escorted Luna back to the Ravenclaw common room, having insisted on taking over Hermione's rounds for the night.

Hermione shooed the disappointed first and second years away to bed at 9.35, over-riding their mumbled protests, and by 10.00 the third and fourth years had been packed off as well.

When Neville had returned, at 10.15, the fifth and sixth years had lost interest in the seventh years conversation and went back to their impressive loads of homework - the fifth years complaining about OWLs; "They're months away!", and the sixth years telling them "Just you wait 'til next year!"

At 10.30 Dean and Seamus had given Harry their fathers' contact details, George had made Neville promise to meet him at The Three Broomsticks for lunch on the Hogsmeade weekend, and Charlie had given both Ginny and Hermione a heart-felt goodbye as he was leaving for Romania in the morning.

10.45 found Hermione and Ginny in their dorm, with Ginny saying a quick goodnight to Ron and Hermione to Harry before both girls took to their own beds – winking at each other and then sealing the curtains tightly.

"We're still going to write letters sometimes, aren't we?" Hermione was stretched out on her stomach, her chin resting on her hands; the mirror propped up against the headboard of her bed.

"_I hope so," Ron's voice took on a soft tone. "It's the best part of the morning, reading your letters over breakfast or morning tea."_

"Mine too," Hermione nodded, and then giggled. "What about when we're living together? Am I going to have to keep on owling you every other day?"

"_If you like," Ron laughed, "I can just see it now, reading our letters over breakfast and Kreacher thinking we've cracked up."_

"I read yours at break," she said, "you didn't sound too happy. Everything alright?"

"_Yeah," Ron blushed slightly and shrugged, "I was feeling a bit sorry for myself, that's all."_

Hermione stretched out her hand and pressed a finger to the reflection of his cheek. "I know how that feels."

"_I know you do," he smiled gently, "move your finger over a bit, I can't see you properly." When she did so, he put his in the same spot. "It's almost like holding hands."_

"Almost," she agreed, and giggled when he unsuccessfully stifled a yawn. "You should sleep, Ron."

"_I can't," he protested, "I'm busy."_

"Doing what?" She raised her brows.

"_Talking to you," he said firmly, "much more fun than sleep."_

"I agree," she laughed, "but if we leave these out, it'll almost be like being together."

"_George does expect a busy day tomorrow," he admitted, "we've got to decide what to do about that woman too, do you really think she's using the puking pastilles to not put on weight?"_

"She could be," Hermione frowned slightly, "I can't imagine why else she'd want that many skiving snack boxes – they're certainly not making their way here."

"_George is right then," Ron said thoughtfully, "we're going to have to stop selling them to her."_

"Let George handle it," she advised, now yawning too.

"_Right, that's it." Ron leaned a little closer to his mirror. "Time for bed."_

"Wake me up in the morning?" Hermione slid under her covers.

"_If you don't wake me up first. Goodnight 'Mione. Sleep well."_

"You too, Ron. I love you."

"_Love you too."_


	27. 3Oct1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Sat 3rd October, 1998

* * *

Hi George

That was harsh, but no less than I deserved.

I wasn't going to write back at all but something you said really got to me and now I need to explain myself. I don't know if it's more for you or for me.

We were at the back, but we DID go to Fred's funeral.

I'm not trying to make excuses; I'm just telling you what happened. Angelina couldn't face you, and she needed me more than you did, or so I thought at the time. I can't tell you why (that's up to her), other than to say that you've got the wrong end of the stick if you think that it's because you're the lesser twin. Where the fuck did you come up with that bullshit idea anyway?

I don't have any good excuses or reasons for not coming over after. You're not going to get it, because you're just not like that, but it was just easier to go and hide out at home for a while. Then after a couple of weeks I started to feel like a real dick. I didn't know what to say, so it was easier to say nothing at all.

Then we tried to see you at the shop, but Ron said that you were on a break (I knew you weren't man, I saw you through the window) and I knew I'd really cocked things up – but by then it was too late.

Basically, I'm a coward. Sorry. Don't be too hard on Ang though, there's stuff you don't know and she's pretty messed up.

Lee


	28. Mirror Mirror

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Mirror Mirror

* * *

"_Love you Hermione ... love you ... 'Mione ..."_

The muffled whispering was enough to wake her up, although she thought for a moment that she was dreaming.

But no, as her eyes slowly opened she realised it was Ron's voice coming from the mirror propped up on her bed-side-table and by leaning up on her elbow, she could see that he was still fast asleep.

"Ron! Wake up!" She bit her lip and her heart fluttered as his eyes opened and stared into hers. "Morning, love."

"_Morning," he smiled slowly, "I was just dreaming about you."_

"I know," and she smiled too, "I heard."

_His reflection wobbled erratically and then he was suddenly much closer. "Did you now?"_

"Oh yes," she followed his lead and took hold of her own mirror, resting it on her bent knees. "It sounded like we were enjoying ourselves."

"_Hmmm. We were," he agreed, "we were in Bath ... the strange pink house that we didn't notice behind all the tree's ..." He shifted slightly and then groaned softly. "Oh fuck ..."_

Hermione giggled. "That was terrible, Ron. We had sex in someone's front garden."

"_It was a big garden," Ron laughed, "and really good sex."_

"That it was," she nodded, "you're thinking about it now, aren't you, while you masturbate."

"_Uha ... it was a good day. It'd be easier to remember if I could hear you again."_

"Would it?" Her lips twitched upward. "You're such a deviant, Ron."

"_You love it!" He grinned. "Little Miss Let's Fuck Our Way Around The UK."_

"Good point. Hold on a minute, I want to try something." Taking her wand from under her pillow, she pointed at the mirror and a look of fierce concentration crossed her face – then a smirk of triumph as the mirror floated above her bed.

"_Nice," Ron sounded impressed, "how'd you do that?"_

"Levireflecto," she told him, "I was going to try reflecto leviosa, but I want both my hands free and a wand is needed to control leviosa."

"_You're brilliant! Levireflecto," and suddenly she had a lovely view of him from the tip of his head to the middle of his thighs, "how's that?"_

"Perfect," she breathed, one of her hands automatically seeking her mound and pressing down when she saw him take his erection in his hand and stroke it slowly.

"_You've too many clothes on," he told her, watching intently._

She shoved her pyjama bottoms down to her thighs. "Better? It's too cold to take my top off."

"_Much better. Put your fingers in ... yeah, that's it ... you like that?"_

"Yesss ..."

"_I love your beautiful quim, Hermione ... is it wet for me, Hermione?"_

"Wet ..."

"_I can't hear you, Hermione. Tell me again."_

"Wet for you ... ohhhh Ron ..."

"_When I see you again, Hermione ... I'm gonna lick you all over ... rub your clit for me, Hermione ..."_

"Merlin, yes ... hhhnnngh ..."

"_I'm ... oh fuck me ... you're so fucking beautiful ... do you want me to fuck you, Hermione?"_

"Yes! Yes ... I want ... want ... fuck me ... want ..."

"_Put your hand under your top, Hermione ... touch one of your tits ... that's it ... mmhhhaagh ... squeeze that tit ... I'm gonna go soon ... can you see how hard my cock is?"_

"Mine ..."

"_That's right, Hermione ... fuck ... it's yours ... gonna fuck you so hard ... look at you ... fucking beautiful woman ..."_

"OH SWEET FUCK ... RON! RONNN!_"_

"_Yeah ... that's it ... yeah ... go on ... FUCKYESMIONE-HNNNGHAAHG!"_

They both lay panting loudly; and then Hermione ran a shaky hand through her hair while Ron fumbled blindly for his wand, not breaking their gaze.

"_I love you," he whispered._

"Love you too."

Her alarm sounded, making them both jump. "Damn," she grumbled, "time to get moving."

"_Me too," he agreed dolefully, but then brightened, "that was one hell of a way to start the week."_

"Indeed," Hermione grinned. "I'll see you tonight?"

"_Of course! What time?"_

"I've got a prefect meeting, so that's going to set me back an hour or so. Shall we say around 10.30? Is that OK?"

"_I'll be here with bells on."_

"Bells?" She raised her brows and shot him a cheeky smile. "That sounds interesting."

"_Very funny," he scoffed. "Have a good day, say hello to everyone for me."_

"You too, same to everyone there."


	29. 5Oct1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Monday 5th October, 1998

* * *

Lee

You're right. That's totally gutless, but at least you went; and I get it about hiding at home, I didn't leave The Burrow for weeks.

I've got to be honest, there's a part of me that really wants to drag this shit out and stay fucked off at you. Hermione said thinking like that isn't healthy. She's usually right, and I don't really have the heart for it anyway.

If you're not doing anything on Friday afternoon come by the shop. It's always quiet then (lucky that, 'cause I'm on my own) so we can catch up.

George

* * *

_Right! That's it for a few days, I'm off to check out fresh air and housework and such. Thanks for the reviews, more's coming (when I write it LOL)._


	30. Hogsmeade

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Hogsmeade

* * *

It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day; the sky was unseasonably blue and the grass seemed particularly green, contrasting shockingly with the last of the autumn leaves being blown about by the stiff breeze. With the huge doors open, it was brisk in the Hogwarts entrance hall.

Huddling into her coat, Hannah found herself trying to suppress her smile to normal levels, as opposed to the current insane grin of glee which was threatening to burst forth. It was an effort not to jump up and down and call out when she saw Neville at the top of the grey stone stairs, but she managed to keep herself contained and just give a small wave. Good job really, because he had his usual bevy of first year Gryffindor boys following him, and she wouldn't want to embarrass him.

Still, when he waved back she couldn't help grinning more.

She couldn't believe her luck, actually.

She'd fancied him since third year, when they'd started working together in Herbology, but she never thought anything would come of it. Sure, they'd gotten on and worked well together from the beginning – and sometimes she'd caught him looking at her and thought that he _might _like her too, a bit ... but there was no way she could have possibly said anything, because what if she had been wrong?

Last year had really put the boot in for her. He'd been so _brave_; talking back to the Carrows, and letting the first years out of the detention cages, even though he knew he'd get tortured for it. Then being a real hero during the battle, and arguing with Voldemort and killing the snake; no wonder he had all those kids following him now, he was great, and he was still so _nice_ - and sometimes she wondered if this term had all been in her imagination.

He seemed to actually like her ... and now he was weaving through the crowd in the Entrance Hall, heading straight for her.

"Hannah." He smiled that shy smile of his, the one that made her heart flip-flop.

She bit her lip to stop herself giggling when his hand brushed hers and their fingers linked. "Neville."

"Breakfast?" He was blushing like mad and it made his eyes sparkle.

There was a scuffling just behind them, and she saw Seamus holding his head while Ginny looked murderous.

"What?" Neville frowned slightly and turned to see what was going on.

Hermione appeared over Ginny's shoulder and shook her head. "Nothing to see here, let's go in. Good morning Hannah."

"Good morning Hermione," Hannah said, "everyone."

oOo

"They look pretty excited," Neville said quietly as they all made their way into the grounds to be marked off the roll by Filch.

"Don't they?" Hannah agreed as they watched Hermione pick distractedly at her sleeve and Ginny shift impatiently from one foot to the other. They both chuckled quietly when Dean detached himself from Valerie long enough to mutter some sort of remark; a rather ribald one at that, if the looks Ginny and Hermione gave him were any indication.

Hannah loved the atmosphere of The Three Broomsticks; the ancient creaky furniture that was polished so much it shone, the smell of wood smoke and soup, and all the colourful people congregated there.

It was pleasantly warm after the chill of outside and everyone's cheeks were still pink. She let the excitable chatter wash over her as she sipped her butter beer; silently blessing the fact that their group of 12 was squashed onto one longish table, crowded so close together that they were practically in each other's laps.

"Don't talk so much, Hannah!" George interrupted himself – he was talking to Neville – with a cheeky grin.

She stifled a laugh. As if she'd be able to get a word in, even if she'd had anything to say. "I'm fine," she said.

"Just soaking it all in, eh?" George suggested.

"Something like that," she agreed.

"Fair enough," George winked and turned back to Neville, "it's the quiet one's you've got to watch you know, Nev."

Neville coughed and muttered something incoherent, his face flaming, but Hannah just laughed. "Do you even know what quiet means, George?"

"Touché," George chortled, "I'm aware of the dictionary definition, but that's about it."

But she knew that wasn't true. She'd heard things from Hermione and Ginny – and she could tell just by looking that he wasn't the same George who was one half of the epic Weasley Prank three years ago. Well, no one at the table – or anywhere really – was the same, not really, not after the last couple of years.

Everyone was putting a good face on it though, including herself ... and right now it wasn't that hard to do. Neville was holding her hand gently, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, as if to let her know that even though he was busy talking to George he'd not forgotten her. That was one of the things she really lo- liked about Neville, he always seemed to want to make sure that no-one felt forgotten; she didn't need it actually, she was perfectly happy to sit quietly and "soak it all in", but it was still a really nice feeling that he cared.

"Would you like another?" Luna, on Hannah's other side, asked. "I'm going up."

"Thanks," Hannah nodded and, as Luna stood, her eyes slid onto Seamus; who was in the middle of attempting to charm the pants off – probably literally – Eva Bones. Hannah knew Eva fairly well and privately thought that Seamus had a job ahead of him if he thought he was going to get past a good passionate snog with Eva.

Hannah thought they'd probably make a pretty good couple, they were both so ... so ... energetic; but under her livewire exterior, Eva was definitely Susan's younger sister. Not stupid in the least bit, and more than a match for Seamus' rakish charm.

It would be fun to watch.

Unlike Dean and Valerie, who were _still _joined at the hip and really didn't give a damn who was watching. Although they'd progressed to actually talking occasionally, which was a pleasant change.

"Here you are," Luna put a bottle of butter beer in front of Hannah and squeezed herself back into her place at the table.

"Thanks Luna." Hannah sipped her drink and enjoyed the sensation of it sliding down her throat. Glancing over at Luna, she saw her watching Harry and Ginny with interest. Hannah liked Luna. She was weird, but it was a good kind of weird - and Luna didn't particularly care if you were talking or not, which was always nice.

"It's like a mirror, isn't it?" Hannah said suddenly.

"What is?" Luna asked curiously.

"Them," Hannah nodded at Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Hermione.

"Hermione's hair could be black in this light," Luna said agreeably.

They were in their own little world, closer than any four people should be – both physically, at the moment, and mentally. Hannah was almost jealous, and would have been had she not seen Hermione and Ginny simultaneously laughing and crying as they ran into Ron and Harry's waiting arms earlier that morning.

Right now they were laughing though, and it was mesmerising. The firelight was glinting off their hair and colouring their faces, and when Ron leaned forward slightly to whisper in Hermione's ear Hannah had trouble tearing her eyes away.

She wondered if she'd ever loosen up enough to show herself in public like that. Part of her really wanted to, but mostly she just liked being in the background – a feeling only intensified by the fact that she'd really drawn attention to herself a couple of times in the most embarrassing way possible.

Neville didn't seem to care though.

Ron and Hermione seemed to be about to make a move, disentangling their limbs and struggling to get off the bench amid raucous and derisive laughter.

"We're off," Ron announced to the table at large.

"But we'll be back in a couple of hours," Hermione added with a smile as they slid on their coats and pulled on their hats and gloves.

"Yeah, we'll come back for lunch at half twelve, see you all later," Ron draped his arm around Hermione's shoulders.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Seamus chuckled.

Hermione and Ron both snorted rudely and gave a final wave before fighting their way through the crowded room to exit the pub.

"I think they've got the right idea," Ginny grinned and slid of Harry's lap, but stayed close.

George eyed them suspiciously and then shuddered elaborately. "I don't even want to think about what that might mean."

"So don't," Luna advised him, sipping her drink.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, fighting back laughter.

"It's a surprise," Ginny told him lightly as they too, with a little more grace than Ron and Hermione, got up from the table.

"Excellent," Harry shot an apologetic look at George – who merely shrugged – before saying, "see you at lunch then."

"And on that happy note," George said with an air of importance, "I'm off for a walk. It's been entirely too long since I've had a good look around Hogsmeade." Standing up he held out his hand to Luna. "Take me for a tour, Miss Lovegood, and we'll leave the love-birds to themselves for a while, shall we?"

"That's very nice of you George; they do need some time to themselves," Luna stared at him, clearly surprised, and accepted his hand up. "You can tell me about the shop while we're walking. Ginny tells me you're thinking of buying Zonko's again."

"Well ..." Neville said, as they watched George and Luna walk away.

"You two should go for a walk too," Seamus advised before turning his attention back to Eva.

"You'll be alright here, then?" Hannah caught Eva's eye.

Eva winked and nodded. "You kids go and have some fun."

Dean and Valerie both chuckled at that. "We're off too, see you at lunch."

Neville gave Dean a meaningful look, but kept his tone light. "Behave yourselves."

"I'm feeling a bit bamboozled," Hannah remarked as Neville helped her with her coat.

"We can stay here if you'd like," he said quickly, gently pulling her ponytail from under her collar.

"No, its fine," she assured him, "I don't really want to watch Sir Snog-A-Lot in action with my dorm mate, do you?"

"Not really," he chortled, "let's go then."

The air rushed through her nose and into her lungs, sending a delightful shiver through her, as she squinted into the brightly sunlit street. "Can we go to the post office? I promised Audrey I'd send her a postcard."

"OK. I'll send one to Gran too, just for something different."

They passed Luna and George at Scrivenshafts, who waved at them merrily – Luna looked to be talking a mile a minute, waving her hands expressively, while George listened with apparent amusement.

"What did George want?" Hannah asked. "He looked like he was giving you the third degree for a while there."

"He was. He wants some help setting up a greenhouse, so that he doesn't have to outlay as much gold for some of his ingredients."

"Right up your alley then," Hannah smiled, "are you going to give him a hand?"

"Sure," Neville nodded, and then blushed suddenly. "You could help too."

"Me?" She shook her head vigorously. "I'd be sure to mess something up."

"No you wouldn't," he said quietly.

She looked at him curiously as he tugged on her hand and pulled her to a stop. "Neville?"

"I think you're brilliant," he murmured and took a deep breath.

The look on his face made her stomach do funny things, and her denial died on her lips when he leaned forward to kiss her softly.

"Hannah?" Neville said nervously. "Is that? Say something ..."

But she couldn't. She could only stare at him, shocked, as a smile played around the corners of her mouth and her insides danced with happy amazement. He was starting to look very uncertain though, and that wouldn't do. Forcing down her shyness, she kissed him back – tentatively at first, but with growing confidence when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.

The sound of a childish shriek and laughter reminded them they were in the middle of Hogsmeade Main Street, and they both grinned bashfully as they pulled apart.

"Um, the post office then?" Neville suggested breathlessly, leaving one of his arms around her shoulders.

"The post office," Hannah agreed, sliding her arm around his middle as they started walking again.

It really was a beautiful day.

* * *

_Gaaaaaah, that took about 500 years to post. I've had all sorts of computer fun, sorry - not to mention all sorts of *other* fun with the chapter that WAS going to go here (but totally didn't LOL, I know when to give something up as a bad job). _

_In the meantime, it seems as though every single little asterisk I've put in ALL MY BLOODY STORIES as paragraph markers have gone bye-bye. Which is, naturally, completely fabulous and makes reading the way I jump around from person to person and place to place thoroughly confusing. I'll fix all that shortly (assuming the little oOo thing is going to work)._

_Anyway, thanks for the reviews on the last round of postings that I did. Awesome stuff, as usual. :-)_


	31. The Previous House of Black

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

The Previous House of Black

* * *

"I can really see Harry's point about removing this wall," Hermione whispered as they stood in the dank hall of Grimmauld Place.

"Yeah, maybe," Ron agreed, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to picture it all. "There'd be a lot more light, we've just got to sort out HER."

"And 'Old Dusty' as you like to call him. It." She wrinkled her nose and took his hand as they kept forward quietly. "Do you think we'll be able to get the curtain open without waking her up?"

"Probably not," He muttered, sounding slightly sour. "Let's get some light going, if there's going to be screaming, I'd at least like to see what we're doing."

"Wait a minute," she warned, "we need to think this through."

"I don't think lights are going to wake her up, 'Mione," Ron grinned as he directed his wand down the hallway. "That's better," he whispered, leaning in to press a light kiss on her lips. "For fortitude," he grinned.

"You're a horror," she told him, suppressing a smile. "Let's get this over with."

"I'm a horror am I?" Ron chuckled. "Maybe we're approaching this from the wrong angle."

"What do you mean?" Hermione wanted to know.

"I don't know yet." They were standing before the long curtains, still whispering their conversation. "I think it's time we had a chat with the old bag."

Hermione looked weary, but nodded her agreement. "Of you go then, have at it."

"OI!" Ron yelled suddenly, making Hermione jump. "WAKE UP!"

The curtains flew open. "FILTH IN THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!"

"No it's not," Ron snorted rudely. "This is the house of Harry Potter."

"YOU!" Mrs Black's portrait seemed to seethe with rage. "BLOOD TRAITOR SCUM! BLIGHT ON WIZARDING KIND! MUDBLOOD! VILE CREATURES IN THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK!"

"Yeah, yeah." Ron grinned and put his arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Thanks for the compliment. What's it going to take to get you off this wall?"

"NEVER! THE HOUSE OF BLACK WILL LIVE ON!" Mrs Black seemed to be trying to claw her way out of the portrait.

"Ron? What exactly are you doing?" Hermione asked, clapping her hands over her ears in a vain attempt to block out some of the ear-splitting noise.

"Having a chat with Aunty Wally," Ron winced slighty. "Oi! The House of Black is dead! The name is gone. It's the House of Potter now. How do you like that?"

"I don't think 'Aunty Wally' likes it much," Hermione muttered, sticking her fingers in her ears. "Are you actually going somewhere with this?"

"I'm not sure," Ron admitted in an undertone. "SHUT IT! Your precious House of Black is going to have a half blood, a muggle born and two blood traitors living in it."

"LIAR'S AND USURPERS! BEGONE FROM THIS PLACE!"

"Nope, not going to happen. Your time is over." Ron stepped closer to the screaming portrait. "You can come down quietly and we'll put you somewhere else in the house, if Kreacher still wants you, or we'll tear the house down brick by brick and start from the beginning. Think about it." Shutting the curtains smartly, he turned to Hermione, who was staring at him with a certain amount of amusement.

"Do you really think that'll work?"

"No idea," Ron laughed as they went into the parlour and he pulled open the curtains. "Worth a try though. Merlin this place is a shit-hole. The floor plans are on the table."

"You're right, it'll be easier if she comes down of her own accord, but I don't think we should hold our breath," Hermione bent over the table to examine the yellowed parchment. "Do you think we should get Bill to give the place a going over before we have Mr Thomas and Mr Finnegan in?"

"Probably wouldn't hurt," Ron agreed, crossing the room to stand behind her and rest a hand on the small of her back. "I'm pretty sure we got everything nasty a few years ago, but with this place ... well ... who knows?"

"Have you ... um ..." Hermione bit her lip and fell silent.

"Told Mum and Dad?" Ron supplied quietly. "No, not yet."

"You're going to have to, soon," she pointed out, "especially if we ask Bill to come and look at the place."

"I know." Ron nodded. "It's not a conversation that I'm particularly looking forward to having, but it'll be alright ... she'll still have Harry and Ginny to fuss over. Anyway," he shook his head suddenly, "No need to worry about that right now. Any idea's for our floor?"

"Yes!" Hermione leafed through the parchment to find what she wanted. "I've been thinking about a home office library sort of thing. I know there's a library down here, but I'd really like one upstairs too – not as big, obviously. These two small rooms here," she tapped on the parchment with her finger, "if Harry has no objections I'd like them connected. What do you think?"

"I think I'm not surprised at all that you'd like a home office and library," Ron needled.

"It'd be for both of us," Hermione poked in the arm as she laughed. "You'll need it too, when go into the Auror Programme."

"True," Ron conceded. "In the meantime, I was thinking about the main bedroom ..."

"Of course you were," Hermione grinned.

"Oh hush," Ron laughed.

"What about the main bedroom?"

"Well, I was looking at a pile muggle magazines that Dad's go in the shed, right, about decorating houses and stuff. One had a little room on the side of the bedroom to put clothes and things in. It was really good." It was his turn to tap his finger on the parchment. "So this is the main bedroom, but there's no window, obviously. I'd really like a window, if we can manage it."

"Ugh, I didn't even think about that," Hermione admitted, frowning at the floor plans.

"It doesn't really matter," Ron said quickly. "This place is really badly designed, heaps of smallish rooms and only a couple of big ones on each floor. I think we should take these three rooms at the back end of the house, and get rid of that wall there ... see? Then that could be our room and we'd get the clothes room too."

"Dressing room," Hermione corrected him automatically. "It's a good idea. You got all this out of a magazine?"

"Yeah," Ron grinned, "there was even this huge one that had a toilet and bubbly bath and everything, but I don't think we've got enough room for that and I don't want to cost Harry too much money."

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Hermione felt a sudden rush of affection at his almost childish enthusiasm. "What we really need to do is go up and have a proper look, then you can show me exactly what you mean."

"Right, and you can explain your office library."

oOo

"Look!" Ron practically bounced across the small room and then tapped the wall in a circular pattern with his wand.

"How did you do that?" Hermione demanded, her eyes flying open in shock when the wall seemed to dissolve into nothing before them, allowing them to see into the next room.

"It's a form of dissolution charm," Ron grinned, "George figured it out a while ago. Give me a minute and I'll have some more light in here too." He stared hard at the tiny window muttering something unintelligible and swishing his wand sharply to the right.

"George again?" Hermione asked, more than slightly impressed as the window appeared to double in width and the room flooded with light.

"Yeah, Geminio fenestra lumos," Ron chuckled, "I hate to admit it, but he's bloody good at spell writing. I've learned more about charms and what-not in the last three months with him than I ever did at Hogwarts."

"You've said that before," Hermione stared at him, still slightly shocked, "but I didn't realise how much." She stepped up to the new window and touched it experimentally, surprised to feel the dusty texture of old silk wall-paper under her fingers. "It's not real."

"'Course not. If I could do this for real, we wouldn't need builders, would we?" Ron shrugged. "Its part of the spell we use for one of the day-dream charms, so it'll only last for half an hour or so. Anyway, that's not the point. If we get rid of that wall," and he pointed at the now-invisible wall, "this is a pretty good size. There's another window in there, obviously, so we can either make it onto one dirty great huge one or just leave them as they are and chuck a third one in the middle," he frowned thoughtfully, "I'd like it to be one great big one, but that depends on what Mr Finnegan says. Aaaaand the third room can be for our clothes."

"It's big enough to have an ensuite," Hermione pointed out. "No one has that many clothes."

Ron shot her a wry look. "Have you seen Fleur's cupboard? She sent me into it to find some box or other once. It looks tiny on the outside, but the inside goes for miles."

"Well, maybe Fleur does," Hermione giggled, "I mean normal people, but you don't have to tell her I said that ... I'm not sure if this is a supporting wall," Hermione added as Ron scribbled over the plans with erasable ink, "if it IS then we can just put in an arch, I've seen that done before."

"I don't think it is," Ron chewed his lip thoughtfully; "I reckon these ones with the thick lines might be though." He glanced at her curiously. "When have you seen it done before?"

Hermione smiled softly. "Mum had a liking of renovation TV shows. Her favourite was one where they only had a few days to get it all done."

"There are renovation TV shows?" Ron's eyes brightened. "Brilliant!" Studying the old floor plan again, he went on, "I don't think this is a supporting wall – the line's a bit thinner, see? I don't know though."

"Well, we've got options," Hermione nodded firmly.

"Exactly." Ron agreed. "Now, what about the office library thing?"

"These two here," Hermione led the way back down the hall and pushed open one of the doors. "What's the spell?"

"Dissultio barius," Ron said promptly. "Once for every tap, starting with north and going around the compass anti-clockwise. You've got to include the middle ones too, like north-west and south west and that."

"Dissultio barius," Hermione repeated, "and if only the main points of the compass are used?"

"Dunno," Ron shrugged, "never tried. Do it and see what happens – you might get an arch out of it or something."

"It needs some fine tuning," Hermione said as they stood back to admire the circle she had made in the middle of the wall. She tapped on the south-east and south-west points, but nothing happened.

"Won't work," Ron told her, "you need to finite it and start again."

"Right."

Within moments they were facing a perfectly formed arch, which gave them a view into the next room.

"That looks quite good," said Ron.

"It does, doesn't it?" Hermione smiled. "That side could be the library and this side could be the office – we'd want the fireplace in the office."

"Oh yeah," Ron agreed. "Which reminds me of something George said! How many do we want on the floo network? You know its 15 Galleons a year just for one, but it gets a little bit less for each extra. I think he said it was 25 for two and 30 for 3. Um ... any more than that are 2 galleons extra."

"At the moment it's just the one in the kitchen connected, isn't it?" Hermione frowned. When Ron nodded, she continued on. "Have a talk to Harry about it, but I think we'd be better off having the main floo in the parlour, don't you? I must admit that I don't know a great deal about how the floo network works, but if we've still got all of the protection and such over the house, and it's unplottable, isn't that negated by the fact that we're on the floo network?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Ron dug into his pockets. "Have you got any parchment with you? I need to write myself a note or I'll forget to find out."

"Put it on the plans," Hermione advised, "then you won't have to worry about losing it."

"Good idea," Ron chuckled. "So ... uh ... any other ideas?"

"Hmm, not really. This one here," Hermione pointed to a long room on the plan. "Family room?"

"Definitely, and leave the bathroom alone obviously – we don't know any muggle pumbles, do we?"

"Plumbers. Not that I'm aware of," Hermione admitted. "Its fine where it is, anyway, and I'll admit I really like the look of the deep tub ... it just needs new minor fittings, and a coat of paint." She shot him a cheeky look. "Maybe that's a little project you could do for yourself."

"Minor fittings?"

"Handles, spouts and that kind of thing," Hermione clarified.

Ron rubbed his hands together and looked excited. "I could do that! I could get Dad to help! He'd love it!"

"I'm sure he would," Hermione agreed, laughing, "You're going to need washers and O rings and all sorts of other muggle things. Now, we haven't talked about the front end yet. There are three rooms there, what are we going to do with them?" She didn't bother to hide her grin at his sudden blushing.

"Well, I suppose those are for the ... uh ... for the kids."

"So we paint them out and leave them be for the moment? That works for me." She looked at him curiously, wondering what was making him gaze at her in such a searching way. "What?"

"So we're really doing this then?" He asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes," she took the parchment and quill from his hands, set them on the mantle-piece of the fireplace and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Yes, we are really doing this."

"Wow."

She couldn't see his face, because he was holding her tightly and had her head tucked under his chin; but she could feel his breathing and the light kiss he pressed into her crown. "Love you, 'Mione."

"Love you too, Ron." She sighed happily, and then giggled when he next spoke.

"So I've been really good," his voice was slightly gravely, "and kept my parts to myself while we've been doing this."

"Hmmmm." She nodded slowly.

"Have we talked about it enough yet?" He asked, sliding his hands down her back to rest on her bum. "Or is there anything else?"

"Now Ron," she made her voice stern, "you know I said one hour for business and one hour for pleasure ..." her fingers were toying with the bottom of his jumper, "but I think my future handy-man deserves an early minute."

"Handy-man?" A low chuckle rumbled through him. "I'll show you handy ...


	32. The Chat

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

The Chat

* * *

"Dad?" Ron said tentatively as he put away the last of the dishes. "Can we have ... um ... a chat?"

"Of course, Ron." Arthur looked at his youngest son curiously. Clearly Ron had something on his mind and was choosing his words very carefully.

"Um," Ron's eyes darted from Arthur to the front room and back again. "In the shed?"

"If you like," Arthur said kindly, although inside he was a little worried. The last time one of his son's had approached him like this, it was Bill; when he'd asked Fleur to marry him.

That had been an interesting night. Molly hadn't taken the news very well, when Arthur had broken it to her – Bill having wisely decided to take Fleur on a night out on the town. Not that Arthur could blame her ... well, not much. Molly took her duties as the matriarch of the Weasley household very seriously, and Fleur had managed to alienate her from the word go, with her scorn of everything Molly held close to her heart.

_Well, at least that won't be a problem with Hermione ... if anything, Molly will be excited ... ugh, another bloody wedding ... but surely they're a bit young to get married? It's the 1990's! They should live a bit, go on holidays, raise a little hell, and establish their careers before they get married! Especially after the last few years!_

_Oh Merlin! What if they're pregnant? No, they can't be! Hermione's a very sensible girl and I KNOW Molly showed her how to brew the potion properly ... and it's not like I haven't pounded Spermus Nullifilius into ALL the boys heads since they were 12 ... Ron's never been that good at non-verbals though ... but Hermione's a dab hand at potions, so no ... I'm sure it's not that ..._

_Calm down. You're putting the coach before the thestral, Arthur._

Even so, by the time he had followed Ron through the garden and into the shed he was in a bit of a state.

Taking a deep breath, he schooled his expression into one of mind curiosity as he motioned Ron to take a seat. "So what's this all about?"

Ron folded his arms and crossed his legs. Then he unfolded and uncrossed them as he mumbled something very low and very fast.

"OK." Arthur nodded and felt a little glimmer of relief. While he's caught the words 'Grimmauld Place' and 'Hogwarts', he was quite sure he hadn't heard 'Pregnant' or 'Married'. "Take a deep breath and try again." He smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging and understanding way. "Maybe a little slower this time?"

Ron sighed heavily. "Hermione and I are moving into Grimmauld Place next October."

Arthur nearly laughed. "So no one's pregnant?"

"What?" Ron's eyes flew open in shock. "NO!"

"And you're not getting married?" Arthur really felt he should double check.

"No." Ron flushed slightly. "Not _yet_ ... um ... so ..." he looked confused and slightly put out, "am I in trouble?"

Arthur really did laugh. "No, you're not in trouble. You're both adults and can do as you please."

"Is Mum going to think the same way?" Ron asked shrewdly.

"Hm." Arthur half shrugged. "Her head might, but her heart probably won't," he admitted. "She's going to miss having you all around to fuss over. I take it Harry and Ginny are planning the same thing?"

"No they're not, actually," Ron told him. "Well, not for a couple of years. They both want to stay here."

"Really?" Arthur sat back abruptly. "Whatever for?"

"No clue," it was Ron's turn to laugh. "We were hoping it might take the pressure off a bit."

"More than likely," Arthur half-smiled at Ron's bluntness, "I won't be doing my job as a father, though, if I don't ask you if you're sure about this."

"I am absolutely sure about this."

"That's good enough for me." Arthur nodded. "Grimmauld Place though? I can think of nicer houses."

"Tell me," Ron snorted suddenly. "We were there today; it's going to take a lot of work."

"Today?" Arthur leaned forward again. "Work?"

"Hermione and I were there today," Ron clarified, "looking over the plans and stuff."

"OK, wait." Arthur held up one hand. "Back up a bit. Firstly, Hermione left Hogsmeade?"

"Yeah, only for a couple of hours" Ron nodded. "She checked with McGonagall first, but it's allowed if you're of age."

"That's new," Arthur chuckled, "so did Ginny and Harry go with you?"

Ron coughed and shrugged. "No. I think they went to the beach. I didn't ask."

"Quite." Arthur winced slightly. "Neither will I. I take it Harry's doing some sort of work on the place, if you're looking at plans?"

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "Do you want to have a look?"

"What? Now?"

"Huh? Oh, no, not go there. At the plans." Ron grinned and upon his father's nod pulled them from inside his jacket, then unfurled them and flattened them on the work bench. "There you go."

"I see." Arthur chewed his lip and squinted slightly in the dim light. "This is very interesting. Tell me what you've got in mind."

* * *

_Thanks for the reviews on the previous chapters! You're all gold! :-)_


	33. 31Oct1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

31st October, 1998

The Burrow

Dear 'Mione

I told Dad tonight, and he's fine. We told Mum and she's more-or-less fine. She's not angry or anything like that though, just ... more-or-less fine? We were right though, it's good that Harry and Ginny are staying for longer.

Having said that! I don't know what they take us for! BOTH OF THEM thought we were pregnant, and were dead relieved when it turned out that it's "just" that we're moving in together. Mum DID (of course hahaha) drop some serious hints that she's hoping for a wedding in the next five or six years (and Dad suggested eloping) ... but other than that, they actually seem pretty happy about the whole thing.

So! Tomorrow Mum and Dad are going with me and Harry for a look around the place to offer advice and whatever else. Dad's really excited about helping me with the bathroom – but he thought of something that neither of us did. If we don't know any PLUMBERS (that IS the right word, isn't it?), how are we going to put in that little toilet in the dressing room?

Dad reckons we could do it ourselves (apparently he and grandpa built The Burrow), but I don't know. Can you ask around and see if there's anyone at school with plumbers in the family? It seems like a better idea to me.

I wish we'd had more time alone when we got back to Hogsmeade for lunch, but it was good to see Hagrid, Grawp and Neringa. I see what you mean about her, she's an odd one – and she doesn't half like ginger hair, does she? For a minute there I didn't think I was going to make it out alive.

Speaking of ginger hair, did Ginny get all the sand out of hers? Honestly. If Potter wasn't my best mate I'd have to get arky ... couldn't they at least TRY and pretend they were having a nice platonic chat?

Find out from Luna what she and George talked about, will you? He's been in the strangest mood since he got home. Not a bad one or anything like that, just really quiet ... I'm not worried or anything, but it's weird.

Meanwhile, it's only been a few hours since we were together and I'm already missing you like mad. How was the feast? Brilliant, I'll bet.

I love you, 'Mione

Ron

* * *

_Quick and not at all dirty ... this week has galloped along. _


	34. 07Nov1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

7th November 1998.

2.35pm.

10C, mostly cloudy.

Perfect Quidditch Conditions.

Ginny had been merciless with their practice regime; in part thanks to her particularly competitive nature – Seamus suspected that had something to do with being the youngest of seven – and in part thanks to Hermione and her bloody timetables.

It was all worth it in the end, though – all the nights in the driving rain, the afternoons in the freezing wind and all the bumps and bruises and aches in places he'd never even known existed - now that he had the fluttering snitch clutched tightly in his hand.

oOo

He'd looked pretty happy with himself; as he should, Eva Bones thought, considering the snitch had been conspicuously absent for almost the moment it had been released.

The Gryffindor team had worked like an almost seamless unit – even the weaker members – which had resulted in an absolute trouncing for Slytherin.

470 to 30.

There was a small part of her that felt sorry for the Slytherins, but it was a very small part and it was mostly over-ridden by the thought that Hufflepuff didn't have to face Gryffindor until late February.

Seamus was a good seeker. Light and fast, with really sharp eyes, and the little game of "chicken" he'd played with Marius Cradock when the snitch had finally decided to show itself was proof that he was cocky enough to push it.

Yeah, he was cocky all right. Especially right now, surrounded by a group of admirers all vying for his attention. She couldn't help raising an eyebrow in slightly mocking amusement when he caught her looking and shot her a sheepish smile.

"Bit of a tart, isn't he?" Ginny chuckled as she walked past on her way outside.

"Just a bit," Eva grinned, "good game today."

"Yeah, thanks," Ginny paused, looked as if she was going to say something, glanced over at Seamus and then shrugged slightly. "You've got Ravenclaw on the 28th?"

"Yeah." Eva nodded, but didn't offer up anything else.

"Hm. I've been watching them. Keep an eye on Angela Daniels. She's their strongest player. Anyway, I'm off to walk with Harry. See you at dinner?"

"Yeah, see you at dinner," Evie agreed, then added, "thanks for the tip."

"No problem."

She stood staring thoughtfully at the great doors, which Ginny had disappeared though, for several more moments before turning around and finding the one and only Seamus Finnigan standing before her.

"What's got you looking so serious?" He asked, twinkling his eyes at her – probably deliberately – and shooting her that winning smile he reserved for special occasions.

"Oh, hello Seamus. Just Quidditch," she pursed her lips slightly and looked him up and down with a critical air. "For all your bitching and moaning about it, you did well today."

"Bitching and moaning?" Seamus looked offended, but it was so obviously put on that she couldn't take him seriously at all – and he knew it. "Ah, come on Evie, be nice. I've come to ask if you'd like to take a turn around the lake."

"With you?" She looked aghast.

"No, with Hagrid," Seamus widened his eyes.

"I don't know ..." she murmured, knowing full well that she would, "it's a bit chilly."

"I'll keep you warm!"

"What about your fan club?" She asked, glancing over at the group of girls who were taking their time in dispersing.

"I'm sure they'll survive without my august presence," he told her gravely. "You're not going to hold that against me, are you Evie?" Tugging on the drawstring of her hood, he stepped closer. "I can't help it if they're bowled over by my dashing good looks and charm."

Eva snorted rudely. "Good lord! How can you say things like that with a straight face?"

"It's a skill," he shrugged. "Will you come and enjoy the last of the good weather?"

"Oh OK then." She sighed dramatically and took the hand he held out. "You win, Finnigan. Take me for your walk around the lake."

"So it's 'Finnigan' now, is it?" His tone was casual as he linked their fingers together. "Am I in the bad books for something?"

"I don't know," Eva looked at him suspiciously. "What have you done?"

The corners of his mouth twitched upward slightly. "Nothing?"

"Well, that's OK then," she smiled easily. "The lake?"


	35. Forget?

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Forget?

* * *

"That felt good," Dean smiled slowly and waited for Valerie to slide in next to him before draping his arms around her.

"Hmmm. It really did," she agreed. "I don't know why we didn't think of this earlier."

"Well," he chuckled and ran his fingers lazily over her back, "you can thank Ron for the idea."

"I'll be sure to do that," she giggled, "just not while Hermione's listening."

"Exactly."

"Dean?" She lifted her head to look at him properly.

"Yeah?"

"You had another nightmare last night," she said bluntly, not at all surprised when his gazed slid from her to the fireplace and stayed fixed there.

"I know," he admitted. "Sorry if I disturbed you."

"I don't care about that," she said quickly, letting her head fall back on his chest. "I think you should talk to someone though."

"What?" He snorted derisively. "Just because of a couple of nightmares?"

"A couple?" She sighed heavily and disentangled herself from his arms to sit up and face him fully. "You can't shag yourself into forgetting."

He grunted and shrugged, still staring at the fire. "It's getting better," he said, a little defensively. "Anyway," he finally looked at her, a small frown creasing his forehead, "you should take your own advice."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled.

"Don't you?" He asked pointedly, sitting up himself. "I saw the way you were when they were talking about Azkaban the other day."

She wrinkled her nose and half-shrugged, but said nothing, and didn't protest when he pulled her against his chest and settled them both back down against the pillows.

"Anyway, you can't deny the shagging pushes it all away."

"True that," she conceded, shivering slightly when one of his large hands slid down her back and cupped her arse. "When do we have to be at Hagrid's for tea?"

"Not for an hour at least," he muttered, regarding her through half-shut eyes when she slid over him. "Any ideas on how we can waste the time?"

"Yeah," she kissed him lightly on the mouth, "I think we'll find something to do."


	36. 09Nov1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Monday 9th November, 1998

* * *

Another busy day at Weasley's Wizard Wheezers, and George had not yet had the opportunity to tell Ron that he thought he just might have cracked the problem with the permanent sticking charms.

Really, you'd think that with school in session, things would have slowed down a bit – and certainly it was slower than the two weeks directly before school started, but it could hardly be called quiet. This might or might not have something to do with the fact that more parents than normal were choosing to educate their kids at home.

George could understand why, he really could, but a part of him thought that they were doing the wrong thing by their kids. Still, that wasn't for him to say – if he was a parent he might think differently on the matter.

Today he wished it would slow down just a bit. Hopefully in the afternoon it would. Angelina was coming in today, only the third time she'd been to the shop ... and despite the fact that things have been cleared up (more or less) between them all, she still seemed particularly uncomfortable ...

Most of the time it didn't worry him that much. He supposed that things would work themselves out on their own, all in the fullness of time and that sort of thing.

Other times it drove him nuts.

Harry, bless him, wasn't any help at all. Never one to hide his feelings, he readily admitted he had no clue what bee might be in Angelina's bonnet.

Ron, damn him, was even less help ... and maddeningly superior into the bargain.

"Don't worry about it, mate," Ron had said, patting George's shoulder in a comforting way. "It'll all work out in the end, you'll see."

Yeah, fat lot of help THAT was.

Lee's constant refrain of "Not my place to say, mate" was irritating as hell too.

George had to wonder why it worried him that much anyway. After much ruminating he put it down to him just wanting things to "be the way they used to be" ... which of course would never happen, because they just couldn't be. Still, it would have been NICE if Angelina could occasionally look him in the eye without waging whatever internal battle it was she was having with herself.

Now Luna ... Luna had come up with something that George had instantly laughed off as absurd. This was Luna after all ... lots of things she said had to be taken with a grain of salt.

On the other hand ... lots of things she said were right on the money.

The idea privately stayed with him, intrigued him, no matter how much he publicly scoffed at it.

Nah. He dismissed it again. Sure, they'd been getting closer during the war, and he'd had definite stirrings of much more than friendship ... to the point where he'd even told Fred about it, because she was his ex-girlfriend after all. Fred had been all for it though. But what Luna suggested made no sense, no matter how much he liked the idea ... and he did like it.

Damn it, it was nearly time for Ron's lunch break and the shop hadn't slowed down one iota.

It was moments like this he REALLY missed Verity the most, because she knew the business backwards and was great help – and totally unflappable when things got a bit silly.

They'd got her out in the nick of time, thankfully – because there was no way she had any intention of signing up to the Muggle-Born Register - and when the "Ministry Officials" had come to call they could truthfully say they had no idea where she had gone ... because those anonymous postcards from Ibiza could have been from anyone, really.

Meanwhile, instead of Verity he had Ron and Lee – both of whom were very good and he absolutely trusted them, but there was no way he'd let one of them off for lunch and leave the other to handle the floor and the till on a busy day like this, without him there.

Feeling something akin to frustration, he waited until Ron had finished serving a middle aged woman (fox-trotting slippers, size 37, ruby red), said a few words to him and took over on the counter.

Oh well, he really shouldn't complain ... if he was going to never get a moment to himself, at least it was for a good reason.

He supposed he'd have to tell Ron about the possible counter-spell later tonight.

_Confundus. Finite Fortis. Relashio._

Potentially dead simple, when you thought about it. Finite Fortis worked on most permanently stuck objects, but the key was that with portraits the subject probably had to be confused into letting go. Well, that was the theory ... he'd be curious to see if it worked.

It had been Ron who had given him the idea in the first place, saying how Mrs Black's portrait had been considerably more docile in recent days. Oh, she still kicked up a racket whenever anyone came near, but if she saw it was Ron she'd close her curtains quick smart and fall utterly, blessedly silent.

Crap! Angelina was there, saying hello to Lee and giving him a quick hug. George felt a stab of ... what was that? Jealousy? Ridiculous. Now she was walking over to him and asking if he needed a hand behind the counter ... he didn't though, so he asked if she would just sit and talk for a while. And so she sat, rather more primly than usual for Angelina, her hands clasped tightly together on her knees ... and they talked.

Idle chatter.

At least with so many people around uncomfortable silences were few and far between. He felt a moment of ... something ... when it was time for Lee's break and she elected to say by the counter and continue talking. She still wouldn't really look at him, just quick side-ways glances. So he cracked a stupid joke and she laughed.

Things seemed almost normal.

George was tempted to say as much, but decided that now probably wasn't the time. Best to just enjoy the fact that she wasn't acting as though he was about to bite her.

Lee was back far too quickly – that couldn't have possibly have been his full break? No, it wasn't, but Lee claimed to be bored sitting down in the cellar alone. He'd take over the till; it was no problem, really.

Ron drifted over then, shared a look with Lee (what on EARTH were those two up to?) and said that something nice to nibble on after work was in order, seeing as inventory was bound to take ages that night.

Maybe a nice pumpkin twist or slice or something?

Lee laughed and told Angelina that she'd best go along with George and make sure he got something edible ... last time they sent him off for something it had turned out to be a frog leg tart.

George, naturally, protested his innocence and said they were lying through their teeth – as an aside he whispered to Angelina that the frog legs were a pretty green and utterly tempting – and secretly though it was a rather good plan after all.

There was a line at Madam Drury's, as per usual. It went out the shop and a little way down the street, but Madam Drury always had someone walking the line with mugs of tea and coffee, and cold bottles of pumpkin juice, for sale – to be paid for when you finally got in the shop, of course.

Well worth it, the wait. The coffee was good and hot, said Angelina ... George preferred tea, nice and strong. He had to hold her cup for her, when she bent to pick something from her shoe, and their fingers brushed – she hid her blush from him, but he saw it all the same and it made him wonder ... and when she came back up, relatively composed, he deliberately brushed her fingers again when he handed back her cup.

Aha!

The line was fast, faster than usual, and they found themselves back at Weasley's Wizard Wheezers in no time at all, in possession of a large apricot and pumpkin tart ... much to Ron's cry's of joy and relief as he ushered them rather forcefully down the stairs with a smile.


	37. Dramatic

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Dramatic

* * *

"What's up with him?" Angelina stared after Ron as he disappeared back up the stairs.

"Who knows," George laughed, "I gave up trying to understand Ronniekins a long time ago. It's best just to smile and nod, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I think I do." She was looking around at the boxes and crates, and the rickety old table with its wobbly legs. Anywhere but at him. "Nice set-up you've got down here, George."

_This again?_ He nodded and focused carefully on the tart in his hands. "I think a slice is in order, don't you Ange?"

Her sigh of relieve was visible. "Isn't that supposed to be for after work?" Angelina demanded. "You know, as fortitude for tonight's inventory. Ron's not going to be happy if you eat it all before he can get at it."

"I wasn't suggesting we eat it ALL," George laughed. "Just a thin slice, you know, to make sure it's up to scratch."

"Well ... it wouldn't be fair of us to not make sure that it's good enough, would it?"

"That's the spirit, Ange. Pull up a crate," George said as he summoned a knife and a fragile looking paper plate. "Last one, I'm afraid;" he motioned to the plate, "we're going to have to share." _There she goes again, looking all uncomfortable. What's going on with you, Ange? _

"No forks? I take it this is going to be a fingers exercise?"

"Food always tastes better that way," George replied loftily, hitching his crate closer to hers and balancing the paper plate on his knee before breaking off a small piece of tart and popping it in his mouth. "Go on, it seems to be OK, but I need a second opinion." He broke off another piece and held it out, waiting patiently for her to take it and watching with interest when she finally did.

"Not bad," she agreed, very interested in a scuff mark on the floor.

"Have some more," he broke off another and proffered it. "You going to hang around for a bit?"

"Yeah, sure. Tea?" Angelina jumped up and started fiddling with the kettle.

"OK. I'll take a cup before I head back up there."

"Is it usually this busy?" She asked.

"Sometimes," he said. "Sometimes it's busier, but that's usually in the holidays and before things like Halloween, Easter and Christmas." He stared curiously at her back. They'd already talked about this. Twice. That idea of Luna's was buzzing around his head again, no matter how hard he dismissed it.

_Time to take the bull by the horns._

He put the paper plate on the rickety old table and stood slowly, taking the time to brush any crumbs off his lap and collect his thoughts. She was still mucking around with the tea things, moving them around this way and that. Two mugs of tea really don't need that much work ... and still she had her back to him.

"Do you do inventory every night?"

"Pretty much," he went to stand next to her and took one of the mugs from her hand, placing it carefully back down. "The water isn't even boiled yet."

"I know," she poked her wand at it impatiently. "This isn't a trick kettle or something?"

"No," he laughed at that and made a mental note to explore the idea. "Let it go for a minute, a watched pot never boils."

"True, true," she laughed too, but then tensed noticeably when he took hold of one of her wrists gently and held it still.

"I'm not going to bite." Merlin, it was almost funny. "Why is it that every time I touch you, you jump about a mile?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, George," Angelina scoffed, glancing at him briefly out of the corner of her eye.

Relenting, he let go of her wrist, but didn't back away. "I wish you'd talk to me, Ange."

"I've been talking to you all afternoon," she said, far too quickly. He noticed, however, that she didn't move away – despite the fact that he was standing only inches from her.

"You know what I mean," he shook his head and laughed at the situation, then decided to approach it from another angle. "Did you know that I fancied the hell out of you during the war?"

She just shook her head.

"Yeah, I did. I was going to ask you out and everything, but it was never the right time, you know?"

"Too much going on," she agreed, resolutely staring at the kettle.

"So ... if I had asked, would you have?"

"I would," she was so quiet that had she not nodded, he wouldn't have been sure of what she'd said.

"So why are you so scared of me now?" George really wanted to know. This was confusing!

"I'm not scared of you," she denied, glancing up at him quickly and then away again. "Why would I be scared of you?"

"OK," he conceded, "maybe scared isn't the right word."

The kettle whistled then, perfect timing, and they busied themselves in the making of tea.

George glanced at his watch. He'd run over his lunch break by several minutes, and felt slightly guilty about leaving the shop in Ron and Lee's care. Then again, what was the point of being the boss if you couldn't take a few liberties?

"What if I asked now? Would you?" As soon as the words left his lips he knew the answer would be no, and so wasn't at all surprised when she shook her head in the negative. "Can I ask why?"

Frowning heavily, she set her mug down. "You deserve someone better."

Well, he hadn't been expecting that! He laughed at the absurdity of the idea.

"You find this _funny_?" Angelina demanded, her eyebrows raised.

There, that was much more the Ange that he knew and lo- liked a real lot. "Yeah, I do," he nodded, "for starters, isn't that for me to decide?" He never thought he'd be happy to see her scowl at him, but at least it was something he was familiar with and knew how to handle.

That didn't last long, and all relief was swept away when she shut her eyes tightly and bent her head. "I really have to go."

He took hold of her wrist again. "No, you really don't."

"George," her voice wobbled dangerously, "please?"

Wait? Was she actually _crying_? In all the years he'd known her, he'd never seen Angelina Johnson cry. He knew he should let her go, but now he also knew that Luna had been right all along ... and this was bloody stupid. "No, Ange. That's not good enough. Give me a reason."

"I hate crying," she mumbled, wiping her face with her free hand. "Fine. I'm a horrible person. Is that good enough for you?"

"Don't be thick," George said, put out, "I think I would have noticed that sometime in the last ... what? 10 years? You're going to have to do better than that."

"Can we at least sit down?" Angelina asked, putting up a front of irritability.

"No. I like it right here."

"You're bloody relentless," she muttered, and he realised that she was resolutely ignoring the way he was stroking the inside of her wrist.

"No," he disagreed, "I'm just sick of it all. I miss you, Ange, and I want you back ... and you're here giving me this bullshit that you're not good enough, and a horrible person, and merlin knows what other malarkey you're going to come up with. Just tell the truth. Surely it can't be that bad."

"No?" She rolled her eyes and seemed to accept defeat. "OK then." She took a deep breath. "I saw Percy and Bill taking Fred's body down to the Great Hall, but I thought it was _you _because I couldn't see," she waved her hand vaguely around her head, "you know, the lack of ear. Then you came running from the other direction. Do you know what I felt, George? When I realised that it wasn't you?"

When he didn't answer she looked up at him, found him staring down at her with an unreadable expression.

"I was relieved, George," she ploughed on, "I was relieved that Fred was dead, because it meant that it wasn't you!"

She tried to shake off the hand he placed on her shoulder, and he wondered absently if she noticed the tears flowing down her own face.

"And then I avoided you at the funeral, even though I knew you had to be feeling terrible, but I was so wrapped up in my own guilt that I just couldn't face you. What kind of a friend does that make me? What kind of a _person_?"

"That certainly explains a lot," he said quietly.

"God! Is that all you can say? How can you even _look _at me?"

"How do you know if I'm looking at you or not," he wondered aloud, "when you won't look at me? Honestly, Ange ..." he shook his head and suppressed a smile, "you're so dramatic sometimes."

"Dramatic? You think I'm being _dramatic_?"

"Just a bit. Come here and give me a hug," he pulled her to him without waiting for an answer; relieved with she didn't pull away, but seemed more inclined to lean against him. "Sorry, I don't mean to ... to ... what is it Hermione calls it? Dismiss? Invalidate? One of them. I don't mean to do that to your feelings."

"And yet you are," she pointed out, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

"Well, do you want me to yell at you and tell you to never darken my doorstep again or something?"

Her shoulders shook slightly. "No."

She was laughing now ... good news.

"I suppose I'd better get back to work."

"No rest for the wicked," she agreed, and then touched his shoulder lightly. "I made you all wet, sorry."

"You made you all wet too," he pointed out, fishing a hanky out of his pocket and waving her hand away when she made to take it from him. "Let me," he said, holding her by the chin and wiping her cheeks carefully. "So, Angelina, how about dinner at the Leaky tonight?" He shot her a lopsided grin. "Not as friends, but a proper date."

"Alright, yeah." She smiled up at him and they both laughed as he finally let her go.


	38. 10Nov1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Tuesday, 10th November, 1998.

* * *

"I won't lie to you," Mr Finnigan sat abruptly, ignoring the burst of dust which immediately surrounded him, "I'll need another look around, and I'm happy to take the job, but it's not going to be cheap."

Mr Thomas watched the dust settle and elected not to sit. "I'm on the tail end of the Becontree contract, finished by months end on the outside. I was going to take the wife on a break over Christmas, back home to the islands, but turns out she's not keen until Dean's finished his education."

"Want's ta keep an eye on him?" Mr Finnigan suggested. "Aoife's the same."

"That's it," Mr Thomas chuckled, "can't blame the woman, though. Be that as it may," he shook his head and turned back to Ron, who had been quietly listening, "I've a job in June that can't be put off, so if you want me to do this I'll need to be getting on it earlier than February – especially if I can't use my usual crew and'll mostly be on my own."

"That'll be fine," said Ron, hastily making himself a note with one of those ingenious muggle pencils, "February was more of a guideline than anything. Mr Finnigan?"

"Eamon, son. My boys are starting the second fit of a cottage in Cork as we speak, all going to plan it'll be ready within the fortnight." He nodded at Mr Thomas. "I'll be ready to go whenever you are ..." he half-laughed, "ever done any building? I don't think my boys'll quite understand this place."

"Bits and bobs, D-I-Y around the house for Stella. Painted much?"

"Only the bathroom and kitchen."

"Works for me," Mr Thomas laughed. "So, Ron, we've a working relationship now and I don't stand on formality. It's Stan."

"Um, OK." Ron found calling the fathers of his friends by the given names more than a bit strange, but he supposed that if he was going to be the "Project Manager" – that's what Hermione had called him - he'd have to learn to deal with it. "I'm going to have to get back to Harry with some numbers; can you give me a rough idea on that?"

Ron waited patiently while they muttered between themselves, occasionally consulting the plans and once or twice drawing on them.

"We'll need another walk-through," Eamon stated.

"It's not going to be pretty," Stan added.

oOo

"'Mione!" Ron's smiling face greeted her. "How was the day?"

"Utter madness," Hermione pushed her hair from her face impatiently and rubbed her temples. "Yours?"

"Around the same. You've got another headache," Ron stated, frowning.

"Just a little one," she shrugged dismissively, "nothing to worry about."

"Go and see Madam Pomfrey," he said quickly, "that's the fourth one you've had in a week. At least get something for it."

"That's really not necessary, Ron," she smiled at his reflection. "Did you see Mr Finnigan and Mr Thomas today?"

"Yeah. I'm going to need to talk to harry before the weekend. Is Ginny around?"

"Not yet," Hermione glanced at her watch, "but she should be along shortly. Is there a problem?"

"No, no problem ... well," Ron leaned away from his mirror and she could hear parchment being shuffled about, "here we go. I need his go-ahead on a few things, and they want to start work in early December. Stan has commitments in June and they reckon it's going to take at least until late April, early May, to get it all done."

"Fair enough," she nodded, "anything else?"

"It's going to cost a ridiculous amount of money," he laughed, rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"How much ridiculous?" Hermione asked curiously.

"They reckon probably around-"

"Hi! Hi!" Ginny breezed into the room, threw down her bag and flopped onto her bed. "That Ron?"

"Hi Ginny!" Ron called.

"You came just in time," Hermione smiled, "Ron needs to talk to Harry."

"Easily fixed," Ginny took her own mirror from her bedside table, propped it next to Hermione's and then settled herself comfortably on her best friends bed. "How's it going, Ron?"

"Well enough," he grinned at his sister, "you?"

"Well enough," Ginny grinned too, "keeping busy. Harry'll be along in a minute."

"Did someone mention my name?" Harry's face slid into view. "Isn't this cosy."

"Cosy?" Hermione wrinkled her nose and stifled a laugh. "If you say so, Harry."

"Turn the mirrors around, will you?" Ron said. "Harry, sorry mate, I need a word."

"It can't wait 'til Saturday?" Harry sounded surprised.

Ron shook his head. "Not really, no. Got a quill and parchment handy?"

"Hang on." Harry disappeared for several seconds. "Go on then."

"I saw Eamon Finnigan and Stan Thomas today," said Ron, "and I've got you a rough quote – oh, and they need to start work in early December ... other stuff on next year and whatever."

"That's fine," Harry wrote something down. "The quote? Do I need to sit down?"

"Probably," Ron laughed, "they reckon you should allow about £100 000 on the outside, whatever that means, which includes materials and labour. No plumbing though."

"On the outside would mean at the most," Ginny interjected.

"Bloody hell," Harry blinked and ran his hand through his hair, "what's that in galleons?"

"Just over 20 000," Hermione said. "Five pounds to a galleon, more or less."

"Eh," Harry shrugged philosophically, "could be worse. What sort of time are they looking at?"

"April, May," said Ron, "if they do it all on their own. Sooner if they get some help in."

"That long?" Harry scribbled something down.

"Yeah, something about the place being like the tardis? Dunno mate, I think it's a muggle thing."

"Could be," Harry shrugged. "What's this about the plumbing?"

"Not their area of expertise," Ron chuckled, "but Stan knows a bloke that lives local."

"Right, right. I'll leave it to you, Ron, to sort that out. Anything else?"

"Yeah. The floo's," Ron leaned away from his mirror to grab something. "It's actually the most important thing, right now. Stan's right around the corner, in Islington, so that's not a problem, but Eamon has to come in from Waterford. He said the fire-place in the kitchen isn't big enough for some of his kit, but the one in the parlour is fine."

"We were going to close the kitchen floo and put it in the parlour eventually anyway," Harry shrugged, "it might as well be done now. What do you need from me?"

"You'll need to send a written request to the floo office," Ron told him, "there's a 15 week waiting list, at the moment, but if you send it via Percy – just as a memo will do – he'll be able to push it through. He said he'll need to see it first thing in the morning, mate."

"I'll send it tonight," Harry said, writing himself yet another note. "Can you give Dud a call and let him know what's going on?"

"Sure, I think I've still got the number here somewhere. I'll use the phone box outside the bookshop next to the Leaky."

Ginny and Hermione looked at each other quizzically, but just shrugged and said nothing.

"What else do you need from me?"

"Written go-ahead for Stan and Eamon to start."Ron said. "They'll be back on Friday. You can send that to Percy too, and he can give it to me at lunch tomorrow. They're going to need to order materials – yesterday, so Eamon says. They'll have a list of what they're going to need to begin with."

"OK." Harry scratched his chin thoughtfully. "We'll go to Gringotts on Saturday and I'll open another account or something, just for the build. Anything else?"

"No, that's it for now."

"Good. I'll see you on Saturday morning, mate."

"See you then."

oOo

"What are you laughing about?" Ron asked, when they were finally alone and Hermione had drawn the curtains around her bed.

"Nothing really," Hermione giggled. "Just you and Harry, talking about 'the build' as if this is an everyday thing."

"It's getting to be," Ron laughed. "I'm just glad George is OK with me taking time off here and there."

"Speaking of George, did the spell work?"

"It did!"

"Oh, well done. Where is she now?"

"I've got her hanging on the end wall of the parlour," said Ron. "Right by that stupid family tree. Kreacher can decide what to do with her." He tilted his head to one side. "Have you made any decisions about Winky?"

"Not yet," Hermione frowned. "I suppose I'll have to think about it properly before long." She stifled a yawn.

"Oh well, don't worry about it right now," Ron advised. "You look done in."

"I am, a bit," she admitted.

"Go to bed then," he told her, "I've got a couple of things to do here, and then I'll do the same."

"You'll wake me up early? I've grown accustomed to our morning routine."

"'Course I will, I need my morning 'Mione too."

"Ron ..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm really proud of you."

He turned red to the tips of his ears. "Whatever for?"

"I just am," she smiled softly and touched the mirror. "I love you."

"Love you too."


	39. In The Library

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

In The Library

(Could Be Anyone)

* * *

"This shit is doing my head in!"

"Problems, mate?"

"Lethifolds. Never thought there'd be anything worse than a dementor."

"At least when dementors attack you're actually awake and know about it. How're you supposed to produce a patronus when you're asleep?"

"Buggered if I know ... there's a geezer here who reckons he was woken up by one once, said he felt it suck on his feet, but he couldn't see anything and thought he was dreaming."

"Really? What book are you reading?"

"Defending Against Certain Death."

"In Fantasic Beasts it said it went for this other blokes face. So what happened?"

"He almost fell asleep again ... weird ... but when it go up to his legs it started to hurt, so he did a partronus on the off chance and it went away."

"Nice."

"Dunno how I'm going to get 28 inches on it by Monday though."

oOo

"Can you really force change on someone who doesn't want it?"

"So what do I do? I can't just stand by and let it happen."

"Why not?"

"Because it's wrong! It's barbaric!"

"True. So what are you going to do about it?"

"You just told me that I can't force change on someone who doesn't want it."

"You could, but that would make you just as bad. Look at it from a different angle."

"Your kind of angle, you mean."

"If you like."

"Do you think that's possible?"

"Anything is possible."

"OK. Do you think that's probable?"

"Maybe not. What about meeting in the middle?"

"That's possible."

"Explain it to me. Why is it barbaric?"

"Do you even have to ask? You can't seriously think its RIGHT?"

"No. I agree with you completely. But I want you to tell me why YOU think it's barbaric."

"What will that achieve?"

"You're trying to solve a problem by looking at the end result. I think you need to look at the beginning."

"Logic versus Philosophy?"

"Exactly."

oOo

"D-13."

"No. C-22."

"No. D-14."

"Damn."

"B-24."

"No. A-12."

"Crap."

"A-20."

"No. F-17."

"Eh ... yeah."

"I'm winning, aren't I?"

"Might be."

"E-16."

"Oh, bloody hell. You win."

* * *

_Because even in the wizarding world there are quiet days._


	40. 07Dec1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

7th December 1998

11.45am, Arthur Weasley's Office

* * *

"Sweet Circe, Weasel, this job is driving me 'round the bend!"

Arthur didn't bother trying to hide his amusement. "Hello to you too, Shackles. Do you mind not swinging on the chair?"

Kingsley grunted and let the chair drop to its correct position with a thump. "Better?"

"Much. What's the problem?"

"Paperwork," Kingsley grumbled, "everything's all paperwork! How the HELL am I supposed to effect any sort of meaningful change, when it's all about paperwork? If it's not the Wizengamot wanting everything written out in quadruplet and then voted on fifteen times, then it's the Prophet going on about change not coming quick enough. I haven't been home before midnight for a month!"

"That's par for the course, Shackles," Arthur pointed out.

"Yeah, well the course can do stick it up its jumper!"

"What?"

Kingsley chuckled. "Something my muggle grandpa used to say."

"You know what I think you need?"

"What do I need?" Kingsley muttered. "A brain transplant?"

"That too," Arthur nodded, "but in your more immediate future, you need some manual labour!"

"Oh, sure," Kingsley rolled his eyes irritably, "that's going to be so easy to come by, here in the Ministry."

"Merlin's pants, are you finished with the whinging? Harry's doing up Grimmauld Place."

"I heard from Percy," Kingsley nodded, "I can think of better places to live."

"Me too," Arthur agreed, "but Eamon Finnigan and Stan Thomas are doing the job, and they're muggles."

Kingsley laughed. "So that's got you all excited."

"You're such a laugh," Arthur said in a dry tone, "don't give up your day job. My point is that they're muggles, the fathers of a couple of Ron and Harry's friends, and they're doing the job without their usual employees."

"Ooooh," a slight smile crossed Kingsley's face, "so they need a bit of help?"

"Exactly." Arthur nodded sharply. "I'm taking the afternoon off to help them bash down a few walls."

"The muggle way?"

"Indeed. Manual labour, my friend." Arthur chuckled. "Are you coming?"

"Give me 20 minutes! I'll tell Annalisa to clear my afternoon and change into old clothes."

oOo

"Dad! Kingsley!" Ron embraced his father quickly and shook Kingsley's hand. "You're just in time. I just got back with lunch." He waved around a paper wrapped parcel and then addressed Kingsley specifically, "I can't believe he roped you into this."

"It wasn't difficult," Kingsley said. "I need an afternoon off."

"Off?" Ron eyed his father suspiciously. "Did he tell you what you're doing?"

"Knocking down walls the muggle way," Kingsley grinned, "believe me, Ron, that's the afternoon off."

Ron shrugged. "OK. Come into the kitchen and meet Stan and Eamon. I've got to get back to the shop by two."

oOo

"I have to tell you," Kingsley said seriously, "I do believe we've met before."

"I can't see how," Stan Thomas said, frowning, "but can't say I disagree."

"Nevermind," said Arthur, "I'm sure it'll come to you before long." He turned to Eamon. "What exactly do you want us to do?"

"It's easy enough, Arthur," Eamon said, "especially now that you've made another sledge – really useful skill, I'll say – you see here?" He took a strange looking can and made several red dots on the wall.

"Uha."

"You need to hit these, hard as you can. That's all there is to it."

"What happens if the ceiling falls in?" Arthur asked, only half joking.

Eamon smiled. "If that happens, which it won't, you use some of that magic of yours to make sure it doesn't."

oOo

"This isn't bad at all," Stan Thomas said, starting on his second butter beer, "low alcohol, so the Mrs doesn't have a fit, and it tastes good into the bargain."

"Montserrat!" Kingsley said suddenly.

Arthur and Eamon raised brows at each other. All afternoon Stan and Kingsley had been trying to remember where they knew each other from.

"St Augustine Primary School," Stan's face cleared, "you were a couple of years ahead of me."

"Yes! You were in the under 8 cricket team!"

"And your brother, god, what was his name?" Stan frowned heavily, "Winston! He went out with my big sister, Lina."

"I remember that! He put on such a ruckus when Dad decided we were going to move to Birmingham. 12 years old and he was sure he'd met the love of his life."

"That's right." Stan laughed. "She moped around all that summer, like you wouldn't believe."

"I'd believe it," Kingsley snorted, "Win did the same thing. What's Lina up to these days?"

"Ah, she's got a brood of kids, lives in Leeds with her husband Jim. He's a good bloke. What about Winston? What's he doing with himself?"

"He was killed by death eaters in the early 80's," Kingsley said bluntly, "he was making his way up the Ministry ladder and they wanted him in their pocket. He refused."

"Damn. I'm sorry, Kingsley," Stan said sincerely.

"It happens," Kingsley shrugged.

"Do you remember Stella Holbrooke?" Stan asked, as much to change the direction of conversation as anything else.

"Merlin yes," Kingsley brightened. "She was a pretty little thing; I even noticed that at 10 years old."

"I married her," Stan said proudly.

"No." Kingsley looked aghast. "Well done, how is she?"

"I know," Stan looked slightly smug. "She's well. Hitting Regent Street as we speak, no doubt. We've four kids together."

"You sly dog!" Kingsley tilted the head of his butter beer toward Stan in salute. "Four of them?"

"One boy and three girls, all lookers like their mum and clever to boot," Stan said proudly. "Well, the oldest, the boy Dean, he's not mine technically, but he might as well be, and the girls are. Right proud of the lot of them I am too. You might of heard about my boy Dean? He's one of your lot, a wizard, and was on the run from the Death Eaters during the worst of the war. Didn't get caught til the last few months, then he was rescued by Harry and Ron and he went in hiding at the oldest Weasley boys place." Stan nodded to Arthur in appreciation.

"Merlin yes!" Kingsley nodded. "I heard about that. He's your boy? Well I'll be."

"You'll have to come around for dinner one night," Stan grinned, "just wait til I tell Stella you're the Minister of Magic now, she won't half have a laugh at that."


	41. 10Dec1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

9th December 1998

7.05pm, Chaos Central.

* * *

George shook his head and impatiently scribbled out the half-written spell. "No, that's not right. It'll turn blue."

Throwing down his quill, he leaned back on the faded settee, ran his hands roughly through his hair and shut his eyes. "A watched pot never boils ... a _watched _pot never boils ... a watched _pot _never boils ... a watched pot _never _boils ... ugh, it shouldn't be this hard, damn it. Tea. I need tea ... haha, that's funny ..."

He was interrupted by the sound of stones clattering on glass. "GEORGE!"

"Angie!" Jumping up, he crossed the small room quickly, threw open the window and pointed his wand at the front door directly below. "Come straight up!"

While haphazardly making space on the coffee table, he distractedly swept his wand up and down the room. "Percy's right, I should clean more often."

"You've not wrong there!" Angelina laughed and shut the door behind her. "I bought food."

"You're diamond, you are, even if you are late ... and I've got something for you," he riffled through a pile of papers on the kitchen counter, "Success!" and handed her an appallingly orange envelope.

"What's this?" She eyed it curiously.

"Front door key," said George, "and the security spell ... so you don't have to just about break my windows, and I don't have to get off my lazy arse and let you in."

"Oh, George!" She clutched the envelope to her chest and fluttered her eyelashes. "You're so romantic!"

"Leave off," he chuckled, taking the plastic bags from her and setting them on the coffee table before leaning over the kiss her cheek. "You know what I mean."

"I know." She half-smiled and glanced at him through her lashes. "It's good."

"I'm glad you think so," he said lightly. "So what's for tea?"

"Indian," Angelina grinned, tucked the envelope into her jacket pocket, sat down with a small groan and pulled various containers from the plastic bag. "Been busy?"

"Like a bee. So have you, by the look of it," he said, brushing wood dust and shavings from her shoulder. "How goes it at Snidget Lane? Laurel working you hard?"

"Hard enough," she nodded, digging into her rice enthusiastically. "Rumour has it that Nimbus is working on something to render the Firebolt close to obsolete. I don't know how they could possibly do it, but you know Laurel ... she's not going to take that lying down."

"So she's got you lot all working on a way to improve the Firebolt? Oh yum! Chicken! How the hell are you going to do that?"

"No idea," she admitted. "It can't go any thinner without compromising the suspension and strength, so that's out. SHIT!" She waved her hand in front of her mouth frantically. "Hot! Pumpkin juice?"

"Yeah, hang on," he waved his wand and two icy bottles materialised on the table.

She took a large swig. "Thanks. So yeah, if we go for more speed ... well, I don't know ... I've got visions of flying it and having my face peel off."

"Not ideal," George snorted.

"No, not really. Balance is near-on perfect ... so what else is there? This is delicious; I was getting tired of Chinese."

"Hm, me too," he said, "although I didn't realise until just now."

"So what are you working on at the moment?" Angelina motioned to the scraps of parchment that had been shoved onto the side of the table.

George held his hand over his mouth and chewed vigorously. "Trick kettle. You gave me the idea."

"I did?" She looked confused. "When?"

"Last month," he laughed, "you were messing around with the tea things to avoid looking at me, remember?"

"And you told me a watched kettle never boils," she smiled at him. "I remember."

"Do you remember what day it is?" George leaned forward and brushed his nose over hers.

"Sure do," her lips barely touched his at all, "one month ago today. I'm really glad you pushed the issue."

"Me too."

* * *

_Lordy you lot are patient with me! Thanks for the reviews, and we'll be back to Ron and Hermione soon (erm, my version of "soon" anyway)._


	42. An Average Day

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

8.15am, 20th December, 1998.

The Office of The Head of Muggle Relations.

* * *

Arthur Weasley perused the headline news from the muggle news papers. Only two things to worry about today.

A group of teenage boys had had a run-in with "Aliens From Another World!" according to _The Real Story_. Kappa's, by the looks of it. What on earth they were doing around Briston-on-Wold was completely beyond Arthur, so he sent a quick memo to Emil over at the Department for Magical Creatures. Other than that, the boys had admitted to having a few drinks during their "fishing trip" and common opinion (aside from that of the paper) was that they were probably quite drunk and imagined the entire thing.

He HAD had to send a team out to the young couple in Ffestiniog. They had been picnicking when a Common Welsh Green decided it liked the look of one of the sheep in nearby field ... and another memo to Emil, because they really couldn't have dragons flying about taking farm animals for lunch.

The rest of it seemed to be usual muggle business. Extortionists trying to blackmail money from a multi-national company. The US President impeached. A New Zealand couple somehow involved with identity theft. Church goers being make ill by some sort of fumes in France. A member of the British Monarchy wanting to save the world.

Pushing the papers to one side, he leaned back in his chair and reached for his personal diary. Molly wanted him to drop into Glad-Rags to pick up his new robes - they'd needed to be let down a little in the hem - and Bill had asked him to visit Gringotts over lunch to sign off on a new vault. At some point during the day, he'd also need to meet up with Harry_._

Then there was a 2pm meeting with Kingsley and the Wizengamot; in regard to the upcoming trial of Dolores Umbridge, specifically about the witnesses to be called forward in prosecution. Arthur rather hoped that her filing cabinets and records would speak for themselves, but such was life ...

All things going well, they would be free of the Ministry by 3.30pm. Molly and Harry had decided that this year, this Christmas, a great big bang-up bash was in order ... and the guest list was intimidating to say the least ... The Burrow really wasn't up to it, so the current renovation works at Grimmauld Place were concentrated on the ground floor.

Eamon and Stan had risen to the challenge wonderfully; but there was only so much that two men could do. Naturally, Arthur offered his services whenever he could and was thoroughly enjoying the experience – as was Kingsley, who couldn't take time off quite as often as he would like. The entire family had been roped in, at one point or another, so progress was good ... but the next few days would be vital if the Parlour and downstairs bathroom were going to be ready.

Shaking his head at himself, Arthur decided that procrastination would get him nowhere and that if he wanted to achieve anything, he'd best get on with it.


	43. A Quiet Moment

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

22nd December, 1998.

A Quiet Moment

* * *

It was so good to be back at The Burrow, stretched out on the settee in the front room beside the crackling fire. After a full day of hard work, too. No wonder she was so tired. Her usual "hard work" involved the library and lugging about heavy books, not painting long expanses of wall and then drying them magically with her wand.

How easy it would have been to fall asleep right then and there; especially with Ron occasionally looking up from a muggle magazine to grace her with a lazy smile and rub her feet (just how did they end up in his lap anyway?), but she had her own books to read and NEWT exams to take in just a few short months.

Harry and Ginny had went back to Grimmauld Place after dinner, allegedly to finish the window frames in the parlour (good for them), and she wondered just where they found the energy for it all.

She mentally shook herself back into the present and picked her book up from where it had fallen on her chest. Potions waited for no witch, and she wanted the best possible results in her exams.

"You could let it go for one night, you know." Ron's voice was soft, low and somewhat amused.

"So could you," she grinned slightly, "another one of your dad's?"

Ron shook his head. "This one's new; I bought it from the shop in the village." He laughed suddenly. "I was thinking of taking out an annual subscription, but can you imagine the post coming here?"

"Not really," she half snorted, putting down the book again. "How do you do it, Ron?"

"Do what?" He looked confused.

"You're working at the shop full time and running Grimmauld Place," she clarified. "I know you've helped out a lot with the actual building too; not just overseeing it all, Eamon was telling me today that he'd give you a job if you wanted one."

Ron shrugged. "George is gives me longer lunches when we can get away with it, and its fun." He waved the magazine around. "There's an article about roof-top gardening – I'll have to show Harry, apparently there's a really big one in Kensington we can go and look at – it looks pretty good."

Hermione had to stifle a grimace. Gardening didn't particularly interest her, and it hadn't occurred to her that it would interest Ron either. "That sounds nice," she muttered vaguely.

"Doesn't it?" Ron folded back the page his was reading – studiously ignoring Hermione's _tutt!_ at the action - and threw it carelessly on a small table beside the settee. "Enough of that," he yawned. "Are we waiting up for Harry and Ginny?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Hermione yawned too, "I'm just too comfortable to make any sort of move at the moment."

"You'd probably be even more comfortable in bed," Ron pointed out with a definite air of innocence.

"More than likely," she agreed, suppressing a grin, "but the stairs ... so many stairs ... "

"Oh! I can help you with that!" Ron pulled out his wand and pointed it at her. "Wingard-"

"No! No, that's fine." She jumped up quickly. "I'll get up there on my own steam, thanks."

"Are you sure?" Ron prodded, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Quite sure," she laughed and held out her hand. "Are you coming?"

"That depends," he teased as he took her hand, grunting slightly at the effort to stand after so long in the deep squashy cushions. "Just how many stairs are we going up tonight?"

"All the way up to the top," she told him.

"Brilliant."

* * *

_Thanks, as usual, for the reviews (aka: people are still reading this?). _

_Sorry it's taken even longer than usual to get updates out, but I've got a wicked case of writers block going on (very frustrating!); I know exactly what's about to happen and when, but I'm having boggles with the how at the moment ... cross your fingers that the little trickle I've had in the last couple of weeks means that a flow is about to start._


	44. 23Dec1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

23rd December, 1998

* * *

Stella had been quiet after dinner. Stan had noticed, definitely, although he'd said nothing other than a concerned "Alright love?" as they'd prepared for bed.

She'd smiled at his reflection in the mirror as she completed her evening toilet. "I'm fine, darling. Just a little tired."

But she wasn't fine at all, as she lay awake in his arms while he slept. It had all come rushing back to her; the rejection, the loneliness, and most of all? The confusion.

All of that, just from a throw-away remark Kingsley had made over dinner.

She'd laughed at herself, the first time Stan had bought Kingsley home for dinner, at the way her stomach had tightened over the coincidence. Then she had pushed that little niggle to the back of her mind and he had become a good friend to the couple; and introduced them, in turn, to a good friend of his.

Andromeda was a widow, and had also lost her daughter and son-in-law thanks to the recent wizarding war, and was now bringing up her infant grandson. There was nothing aside from friendship between them, Kingsley and Andromeda, but Stella held high hopes for the future – they rubbed along quite nicely together, and obviously held each other in esteem ... and she suspected that Kingsley held just a little bit of a torch for Andromeda, although now certainly wouldn't have been the appropriate time to make any kind of move.

Stella had a dim memory of Kingsley as a boy. Well ... considering she'd been hardly five years old when she'd last seen him, perhaps it wasn't a surprise she'd not even known his last name at the time. He was just a lanky, cricket-mad 10 year old boy.

She'd never made the connection! Why would she?

She'd made it now though, and she really needed to talk to Stan. Turning in his arms, she watched him, peaceful and asleep.

No need to wake him. They'd need to up in a few hours anyway, it could wait.

oOo

_Just how did a clever, confident, independent and attractive woman get herself into such a situation?_

_35 years old, no family alive in the UK and utterly alone with a 3 month old baby._

_She could go back to the islands, to her aunty and cousins ... but every fibre of her being was against it. She had a life here; friends and a good job that she loved. It's not like she was desperate and broke! OK, so she'd have to go back to work sooner than she'd wanted, but it could have been worse. Harvey had told her only last month that she was welcome back at the travel agency whenever she was ready. Unfortunately there was now no question of going back part-time, as she thought about doing when Dean was a little older, not with cost of living, a mortgage and child-care ... but they'd be alright._

_But this was the last time! Oh yes!_

_Never again would she be sucked in by a silver tongue and a dashing smile in a sharp suit!_

_She just couldn't understand it. They'd been planning the wedding for months ... and even now, she knew, after two weeks of ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, if he walked through the door that very second she'd forgive him and welcome him with open arms._

_She stared hard at the door, willing it to happen._

_God! So pathetic!_

_Win had left her – left his own SON – without a word._

_They'd made love at dawn and then he'd given Dean his bottle while she made breakfast. She wracked her brain, searching for some sort of hint ... anything at all ... but there was nothing._

_Then again, he HAD seemed a little pre-occupied. Trouble at work, he had said, shrugging casually._

"_I'll see you at 6," he had kissed her goodbye and then blew a raspberry on Dean's fat little cheek. "Be good for Mummy, and both of you have a good day."_

_And that was it._

_At first she'd though he'd been in an accident. Checked with the hospitals and the police._

_Absolutely nothing._

_So here she was, on the eve of the wedding that would never be, and she had to face the fact that the bastard had abandoned them. _

_Well ... they didn't need him anyway! FUCK HIM! They'd manage on their own, thanks very much._

oOo

Stan gaped at her. "Are you sure about this, love?"

Stella nodded and fiddled with the rim of her coffee cup. "Quite sure. Who else could it be? How many people from Montserrat do you know by the name of Winston Shacklebolt?"

He chuckled and patted her hand. "You make a fair point." Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes for a few moments, clearly thinking.

"Stan ..." she chewed her lip pensively.

Opening his eyes, he smiled sadly. "I can tell you one thing at least. Win didn't abandon you by any choice of his own."

Stella frowned. "No?"

"No, love, he didn't. Kingsley said those Death Eaters were putting the hard word on him to help them out, but he wasn't having a bar of it. He was murdered."

"Oh ..." her eyes filled with tears, "all those years I hated him ... poor Win."

Stan leaned over and kissed her gently. "You weren't to know."

"I suppose not," she shot him a watery smile. "You're a good man, Stanley Thomas, and I don't know what I did in life to deserve you, but I'm glad of it."

"Leave off, woman," Stan grumbled with a blush.

"It's true!" Stella laughed quietly. "The day you walked into the agency wanting a ticket to the islands was the luckiest day of my life." Then she sobered again. "We're going to have to tell them."

"Kingsley would like to know," Stan said, looking thoughtful, "and Dean-o. He's never said anything about it, but it can be a good feeling to believe that your own father didn't love you enough to keep in contact."

Stella nodded. "We'll tell him first."

"I think that's best," he agreed, and then he glanced at his watch and gulped the rest of his coffee. "I need to make a move! Arthur and young Ron'll be down at the house getting a start on the last of the downstairs toilet and bathroom." He grinned suddenly. "Arthur's keen as mustard, but he gets a bit distracted with the tools."

"You'd best go and supervise, in that case," she followed him to the door and kissed his cheek.

"Why don't you come down at lunch?" Stan suggested. "Come and have a look at the place."

"Too much to do," Stella said, with some regret, "I'll have to wait until I see it at the party tomorrow night. I promised the girls I'd take them into Chelsea today ... and Dean if he wants to come along."

"Need a porter, do you?" Stan teased.

"Something like that," Stella wrinkled her nose, "any special requests while I'm out and about?"

"Wouldn't say no to a nice roast dinner," Stan suggested hopefully.

"Consider it done," she told him, "will you come home early, do you think?"

"I should be back by four at the latest."

"Good," Stella bit her lip. "Can you be here when I talk to Dean?"

Stan nodded quickly. "'Course I will, love. Now, you have a good time shopping with the kids and I'll see you later."

They kissed goodbye and Stella shut the door quietly behind him, pondering about the funny turns life always seems to take.

* * *

_I posted a chapter! I posted a chapter! I poster a chapter!_

_Now I'll try and work out the next one. LOL_


	45. 23Dec1998II

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

23rd December 1998

Grimmauld Place

* * *

"Dad, do you think this is straight?" Bill stood back to look at his work critically and, when he heard no reply, turned to Arthur for confirmation.

Arthur glanced up from the glue-gun he was examining. "Sorry, what?"

"The tiles?" Bill said, frowning slightly. "Are they straight?"

"It looks straight to me," Arthur squinted, "yes, I think so ... where's that thing?"

"What thing?" Bill bit back a sigh of impatience. He loved his dad, obviously, but was starting to understand why his mum occasionally got tetchy about his love of muggle "technologolily".

"The level thing ..." Arthur muttered vaguely, rifling through a small tool box resting in the bathtub. "Here it is!" Stepping forward he placed it gently over the top of the last row of tiles and looked at it carefully. "Ingenious, this thing is ... the bubble is right in the middle, so we know it's straight. Well done."

"Thanks Dad, toilet next."

oOo

"Just a bit higher mate," Stan muttered.

"Better?" Ron stretched as far as he could and pushed the cornice into place.

"Spot on, now hold it there while I take a quick cuppa," Stan joked as he cleaned away the excess cement.

"Oh, you're funny, you are," Ron said dryly.

"I try my best," Stan laughed and picked up his drill.

oOo

"Here you are, girls!" Molly breezed into the room holding a large pile of ivory fabric, which she promptly deposited on the recently polished side-board. "Now, do you remember the spell?"

Ginny nodded dutifully while Hermione said "Thanks for doing this, Molly; we know you're incredibly busy at the moment."

"Oh, it was no problem," Molly assured them with a wave of her hand. "I'll be down in the kitchen if you run have any difficulties."

"Where did she find the time?" Hermione wondered. "You were right, by the way," she picked up one of the cushion covers and held it to the light, "it would have been too much of the same thing without the pattern. What colour did they call the thread in the flowers?"

"She cut and sewed the first one herself and then bewitched her scissors and sewing machine to do the rest, and it's called Cinnamon," Ginny told her promptly, and then giggled suddenly, "much nicer than 'dried blood', which is what George called it."

"Lovely," Hermione chortled. "Anyway, it's a good choice. Would you like to do the honours?"

"I'll give it a whirl." Ginny tapped the fabric in her hand twice with her wand, then tapped the seat of a Jacobean chair and said "Switch!" firmly.

oOo

"Last chance to get anything from upstairs until after New Year!" Harry's magnified voice called throughout the house, to be met with a chorus of "Fine", "No problem" and "We're all fixed".

"Let's get this show on the road," Eamon grinned, glancing at his watch, "at the rate we're going we'll be home in time for a late lunch."

"Music to my ears," Harry chuckled and waited for Eamon to step back before he shot a couple of spells up the stairway. "Done."

"Let's board her up then!" Eamon laughed. "Don't tell me you've tired of this already? You've got months to go yet before this place'll be ready."

"Not really," Harry smiled. "If it all looks as good as this, it'll be worth it."

oOo

"If I may be so bold as to say so, Mistress Weasley, we have done a very good job."

"That we have, Kreacher" she agreed, surveying the laden table and allowing herself a small smile of satisfaction. "A very good job indeed."

"And now, perhaps, a cup of tea and a nice slice of strawberry tart?" Kreacher suggested with a little bow.

"That would be lovely," she admitted.

As the tart in question floated across the room to land lightly on sink Kreacher busied himself with the kettle, affording Molly the chance to watch him curiously.

She had initially been a little weary of accepting his help, although both Ron and Harry assured her that she would come to appreciate it, but he had proved to be an extremely hard worker and quite the talented producer of puddings – and she had to admit that the difference between the Kreacher of now, and the Kreacher of a few years ago was vast. Indeed, she would have been hard put to reconcile he was even the same elf, if not for his distinctive voice and features.

When Kreacher carefully placed a steaming cup of tea and slice of tart before her, and then prepared to bow himself away, a realisation came. Hermione was right. Technically Molly had always agreed with her, but now it really hit home.

"Why don't you sit for a while," she asked, "have a cup of tea yourself?"

Kreacher's eyes widened to almost impossible proportions, "it wouldn't be my place!"

Kreacher had worked as hard as Molly herself had, quite cheerfully and never with a complaint; he had just as much right as she to take the weight off his feet ... but how to tell him that without being offensive? She weighed her next words carefully. "You're not my house elf, Kreacher," she said casually, "and you've been a great help, I'd feel much better if you sat down with me and had a cup of tea and some of this tart."

"Well ..." Blinking in confusion, Kreacher hesitated. "If it would make Mistress Weasley feel better."

oOo

"A little 'igher ... non, a little lower." Fleur sucked in her breath impatiently at Percy's ineptitude when it came to the hanging of curtains. "'Igher – Yes! 'Ere, just so! Perfect!"

From the top of the ladder, with his back to her, Percy allowed himself a slight eye-roll. The curtain was in precisely the same place as it had started. _Really, how does Bill put up with this? She must be really good in – ugh, Percy! That's a terrible thing to think! Clearly George is a bad influence._

"Are you sure?" Percy was quite proud of the way he kept his tone neutral.

"But of course!" Fleur took another step back. "Come now, we 'ave only one more window to complete!"

Privately thinking that he would have been much better served to be catching up of the last of the paperwork on his desk, he climbed down the ladder and shifted it to the next window and waited patiently for his instructions.


	46. Getting Ready

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

24th December, 1998

Getting Ready

* * *

"Do I look OK?" Hannah peered into the mirror and tugged at the sleeve of her new robes nervously.

"You look great," Audrey assured her, biting back a smile. "Now stop messing around with it or you'll ruin it!"

Sitting down with a thud, Hannah clasped her hands together and frowned at her older sister. "I wish you'd change your mind and come with us."

"Don't be silly," Audrey shook her head, "I'd just get in the way."

"No you wouldn't!" Hannah jumped up to pace nervously around the room. "Come on Aud, come with us! Hermione specifically said that you're invited too."

"But I don't know anyone," Audrey protested, blushing faintly. "You know I'm not that good with crowds of strangers, I'm just not a party person."

"Rubbish," Hannah said baldly. "You know me and Neville and Mrs Longbottom, and it'll do you good to get out of the house and meet people."

"Merlin you're bossy," Audrey snorted, "I get out of the house every day at work, and I know plenty of people already."

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Not the same thing. Come on, come with us. I don't like the idea of you staying her on your own all night."

Glancing up at the clock on the mantle, Audrey chewed her lip. "What time is Neville coming?"

oOo

Not paying much attention to what he was doing, and still rubbing his hair dry with a towel, Ron pushed his way into his bedroom ... and then stopped dead when he was presented with a vision of floaty sunset colours and a cascade of chocolate brown curls. "Why hello there."

"Hello to you too," Hermione muttered, glancing at him briefly as she wiggled into her dress. "Could you give me a hand with the buttons?"

"'Course!" Dropping the damp towel on the end of his bed he crossed the room and stood behind her. "Not that I'm complaining," he grinned at her reflection in the mirror and started to work on the fiddly buttons at the back of her dress, "but what are you doing in here?"

She smiled slightly. "Um. Harry's uh ... helping Ginny get ready."

"Right." Ron shuddered elaborately. "Say no more."

"Exactly," Hermione laughed at his expression, and then shivered slightly when he ran his fingers over the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck. "Got them all?"

"Yeah." They gazed at each other's reflections speculatively. "Do we have time?"

"Not really," she murmured regretfully as she turned to face him and began doing up the buttons on his open shirt, deliberately dragging her fingers lightly over his bare chest.

"Damn." Stilling her hands, he bought one of them up and kissed her palm. "It's going to be a long night."

"Uha," she looked up at him through her lashes and bit her lower lip, "think of it as ... oh, I don't know ... foreplay."

"That's one way to put it," Ron chuckled and ran his hands gently over her forearms. "Which reminds me! I've got something for you." He took a step to the side and opened the draw of his desk. "An early Christmas present," he grinned, placing a narrow purple box in her hands. "I hope you like it."

She opened the box and laughed happily when it sprung open to reveal a necklace of delicate sparkling flowers. "Oh Ron!" Standing on her toes, she kissed him full on the mouth. "It's beautiful!"

Ron laughed too. "I'm glad you think so."

"Help me with it?" At his nod she passed the box back to him, turned around to face the mirror again and pulled her hair out of the way. "I've never had a set of anything before."

"You're not counting school books are you?" Ron teased, securing the clasp firmly.

"Obviously not," she grinned at him. "When did you get this?"

Ron allowed himself to look a little smug. "Same time I bought the bracelet."

"And you never said a word!"

oOo

"I ... I don't know what to say." Kingsley took refuge in pouring their drinks. "It's ... well ... I don't know what to say." Passing a glass of mead to Dean, he studied him intently. "I mean ... now that you say it ... yes, I can see it. In fact, I'm beginning to wonder how I missed it ... but ..."

"I know exactly what you mean, Minister Shacklebolt," Dean half laughed and then threw down half his drink. "I had the same reaction."

"You can drop the Minister bit, you know," Kingsley said suddenly, "that's really not necessary."

"Sorry," said Dean, "habit. So ... a bit of a surprise, huh?"

Kingsley glanced over at Stella and Stan, both of whom looked simultaneously relieved but still a little worried. Stella offered a half-hearted shrug. "I don't know why I didn't make the connection sooner," she admitted. "It just never occurred to me."

"OK." Kingsley looked back at Dean curiously. "Well, I know it's a lot to process ... but if you ever want to ... well, to talk about Win, or something. Or maybe not ... well, anyway, if you do ... just let me know."

oOo

"We're going to be late if we don't get a move on," he warned.

"Hmmm." She stretched luxuriously and sighed happily. "What if I don't care? They can manage without us."

"Really?" He raised one eyebrow at her sceptically. "Say it isn't so!"

"Watch yourself boy," she warned, narrowing her eyes at him playfully and reaching down to squeeze his behind, "you're pushing your luck!"

"That was my intention," he shot her a cheeky smile before dropping an open mouthed kiss on her shoulder. "I suppose the kids will cope if we make them wait for a change."


	47. Christmas Eve

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Christmas Eve

* * *

Minerva truly hadn't known what to expect when she had received the invitation to celebrate Christmas Eve at Grimmauld Place – in fact, she'd initially been reluctant to accept; she simply could not abide the place in its previous form. Frankly, it gave her the willies.

She most certainly hadn't been expecting _this _when she stepped out of the fireplace in the parlour.

Slender Victorian columns had replaced the wall between the parlour and hall, adding proportion to what she had personally considered an unattractively narrow room. The effect was enhanced by the replacement of the dank silk wallpaper with a simple finish of ivory paint and subtly moulded cornices.

Even the floors, she noticed as Percy approached her with a glass of wine, had been stripped of the threadbare carpet to reveal highly polished and intricate walnut parquet.

"Good evening, Percy," she accepted the glass with a smile. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Professor," Percy said in his usual formal fashion as he led her to the small knot of people talking beside the large Christmas tree. "I'm so glad you could come."

oOo

The room was slowly filling up as new guests arrived; and already full of the clink of glasses, happy talk and sudden bursts of laughter. Percy was settled comfortably between Hermione and Andromeda, thoroughly enjoying listening to George teasing their father about his love of muggle tools – including a spirited imitation of his excitement over the nail-gun. Arthur took the teasing with good grace, as he always did, and -

Percy's attention was diverted by Ron and Harry's cries of greeting at the fire-place. Neville had just arrived with Hannah Abbot, to be quickly followed by Mrs Longbottom and ... _Oh Merlin! It's her! _ Percy cleared his throat nervously and surreptitiously smoothed down his already immaculate robes.

The girl from Flourish and Blotts!

Light brown hair that hung down her back in waves and soft hazel eyes, a smattering of freckles across her nose and a beautiful shy smile. He'd been trying to work up the courage to speak to her for _weeks_ now; but always turned into a stammering fool, so instead of attempting conversation he always paid for his (increasingly frequent) purchases, and then fled back to the safety of his office.

But this was it! The perfect opportunity! Mrs Longbottom seemed to be speaking to her in a reassuring manner as she pulled her into the room. Oh no! They were coming this way ... he wasn't ready! He didn't even know her name! Turning to Hermione he opened his mouth, but then closed it again with a snap. How could he ask about her without sounding like some sort of desperado? Even worse, Professor McGonagall was eyeing him knowingly – was he really that transparent? – and clearly trying her hardest not to laugh.

Patting him on the knee, Professor McGonagall smiled kindly and muttered "Audrey Abbot" from the corner of her mouth before schooling her face into a welcoming smile.

"So nice to see you again, Augusta," Professor McGonagall embraced Mrs Longbottom and then turned to Neville, Hannah and Audrey. _Audrey ... Audrey Abbot ... _Standing quickly, Percy felt slightly lightheaded as introductions were made, and knew his ears were burning when he took her hand briefly ... _Audrey's hand _... and told her he was pleased to meet her.

oOo

_Oh god, oh god, oh god! It's HIM! It's Percy Weasley and there are all these people and ... oh god, Augusta's dragging me RIGHT OVER THERE!_

The woman was like a train! There was no stopping her as she said hello to various people and continued to make a bee-line toward the group of people sitting around the Christmas tree. Audrey just knew she was going to make a fool of herself, end up with parsley in her teeth or drop wine down her front ... _at least I had the presence of mind to wear a dark colour_.

Audrey managed a quiet, but she hoped sincere, "Hello" and "Merry Christmas" as they were introduced and knew she was blushing furiously when he shook her hand.

oOo

"Would you like a glass of wine, Audrey?" Percy was relieved that his voice came out sounding relatively normal. He had to lean forward and strain to hear her "Yes, thank you" over the volume of the room, and studiously ignored the surprised (and slightly suspicious) look on Georges face when Professor McGonagall suddenly expressed a keen interest in being taken on a tour.

"You must come along with us," Professor McGonagall insisted as she tucked Audrey's hand into the crook of her elbow. "If you will, Percy?"

"I – I ... yes! Of course!" Percy handed Audrey her glass, feeling his ears burn - yet again!- when their fingers brushed, and fervently hoped that _this time _he could keep the stammering to a minimum.

oOo

Things were running very smoothly indeed. The hot food was hot, the cold food was cold, the sweets were sweet and the drinks were flowing. Everything was as it should be and Kreacher was happy to see life back in the old house.

Oh, the stories his old Granny would tell him, when he was a little elf in training! Stories of glittering parties, grand balls and beautiful gowns! Of children sneaking down from the nurseries in their night clothes to hide behind the newel posts and peek at the dancing – the same children who were inevitably discovered by Granny herself and sent back up to bed with a secret supply of sweetmeats bulging in their pockets.

There hadn't been many parties when Kreacher was the Black family elf. That last had been when Miss Cissy was married to Lucius Malfoy – and what a grand affair that had been! How he had worked to make sure she had the happiest and most beautiful of days.

But he couldn't sit here reminiscing! Master Harry's good friend, Hagrid, had just arrived with a very large woman and more elf-made wine was needed from the cellar. Kreacher had work to do!

* * *

_The reviews are great! Thanks! :-D_

_Yes, that was Mr and Mrs Weasley at the end of the last chapter!_


	48. Still Christmas Eve

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Still Christmas Eve

* * *

"Merlin's balls, I thought I'd never get away from old Perkins," George murmured in Angelina's ear when he joined her, Ron and Dean by the fireplace and casually dropped his arms around her shoulders.

"Don't complain," Angelina smiled and nodded at Professor Flitwick, who was waving at them merrily from across the room. "If Ginny hadn't rescued me from your Aunt Muriel ..."

"Awww, you got stuck with Muriel?" He wrapped his arms around her and brushed his lips over hers. "Poor thing."

"Oi," Ron turned from his conversation with Dean. "Keep it clean."

"I am!" George laughed. "Angie was with Muriel. She needs moral support."

"Oh, well." Ron nodded. "That's completely different. Carry on then." He took a moment to scan the room and broke into a grin when he spotted Hermione weaving her way in their direction, clutching a large bottle of champagne.

"You come bearing gifts," Dean chuckled when she joined them.

"Here," she passed him the bottle. "I rescued that from your Uncle Lancelot," she told George. "I think it's safer with us."

"Old Lancelot is here?" George craned his neck in an attempt to see to the opposite side of the room. "I haven't seen him for years. He's mental!"

"Yes, well." Hermione smiled up at Ron and leaned against him gratefully, giggling when he made of show of blowing her hair out of his nose. "Luna caused a diversion and I snuck away with it."

"Luna?" Angelina smiled too. "I was talking to her earlier." She poked George in the arm. "She may well have given me the answer to my little work dilemma."

"Oh, really? Do tell?" George said.

"Not yet," Angelina shook her head, "Laurel would skin me alive if I didn't tell her first, but if it works out it'll be great."

"Fair enough," George shrugged. "I've learned to listen to Luna."

"Me too," Hermione agreed fervently, while Ron hugged her tighter and nodded his agreement.

Dean frowned at them curiously. "What?"

"Luna," Ron said seriously, "helped us get together in a way. She explained me to Hermione when I couldn't even explain myself."

"You too?" Angelina laughed. "She does get to the heart of things, in her own way."

"Hm." Dean drained his glass and then tapped it thoughtfully with his forefinger. "Where is she? I might go and have a chat."

"Problems, mate?" Ron wanted to know.

"No, not problems, exactly." Dean shook his head. "Just stuff. It's a long story."

"Last I saw her she was over by the Christmas tree talking to Eva and Susan," Hermione told him.

"Thanks."

oOo

"Oh, I'm not surprised," Luna said mildly, "but you don't seem altogether happy about it."

"I wouldn't go that far," Dean frowned slightly and selected a piece of candied fruit from a sliver tray as it floated slowly past. "I suppose I'm happy about it. I should be, shouldn't I?"

"What does Valerie make of it all?"

"Dunno." Dean shrugged. "I haven't told her yet; don't really know what to say."

"Ah." Luna's expression was unusually perceptive. "So that's why you dragged me over here and away for the conversation."

Dean just shrugged again, glancing over Luna's shoulder at his girlfriend, who was currently deep in conversation with Percy and Audrey Abbot.

"Nevermind," she smiled sympathetically. "It's a funny old life, isn't it?"

Dean snorted his agreement. "You've got that right. Dad said I should talk to Kingsley about ... well, him."

"You don't want to?" Luna looked surprised.

"Yeah, I do ... but ... it's just weird, you know?"

"It's probably weird for him too," she observed, "finding out that his late brother had a whole life he knew nothing about. I think you should talk to him."

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah, I will."

"He's over by the windows with Mr Weasley and Madam Pomfrey," she nodded to their right.

"What? You want me to talk to him right now?" Dean sounded slightly panicked.

"No time like the present," Luna smiled encouragingly.

"I suppose so." He laughed suddenly and hugged her impulsively. "Thanks, Luna. You're a good mate."

oOo

Some people, quite possibly most people, seem to have an intense dislike of being one of the few sober individuals in a large group of merrymakers.

Arthur Weasley was not one of those people.

Well, sober wasn't strictly accurate either. But near enough.

As the night wore on, several people had said their goodbyes and now a core group remained, comprising of their closest friends and family. Surprisingly enough, it was the younger set who had fallen into quiet conversation, while those slightly more advanced in years had become increasingly ... well, rowdy was the only word for it.

Pomona was clearly deep in her cups, leading Aoife, Andromeda and Augusta in a rather ribald sea-shanty. Molly and Stella were giggling loudly at a story Minerva was telling them in a low undertone. Apolline, Poppy and Olyme, meanwhile, were engaging in a friendly – but clearly competitive – drinking game that seemed to hinge entirely on the phrase "Merlins Pants!"

"Oi! Keep up Weasel!" Kingsley nudged him, none-too-gently.

"Sorry, sorry!" Arthur glanced at the cards in his hand. This "Pokey" game Stan and Eamon were teaching them was quite complicated, but also ripping good fun. "I think I'm out."

Leaning over his shoulder, Filius giggled loudly. "Terrible hand! Arthur's out!"

oOo

"So!" Fleur muttered under the cover of conversation. "You and Percy?"

Audrey couldn't help smiling. "I don't know," she whispered. "Maybe? What do you think?"

"Absolutely." Fleur nodded sharply. "'E is very interested, I know the signs. You should, as Ginny would say, go for eet."

"Oh god! I couldn't!" Audrey protested, much louder than she intended.

"Of course you could," Fleur replied equally loudly,"'ave another glass of wine."

"Well, if you insist," Audrey held out her glass dutifully – eternally grateful for the way Fleur had so easily covered her slip.

"I will see to eet," Fleur added quietly, "come with me now." Standing gracefully, she caught Angelina's eye and tapped Hermione's arm for her attention.

oOo

"But of course you must to this!" Fleur insisted as she fluffed her hair in the bathroom mirror. "It eez perfect!"

"Trust me, it'll be SO worth it," Angelina laughed.

"But ..." Audrey was running out of arguments, and in truth she didn't _really _want to argue the point at all. She actually rather liked the idea.

"No buts!" Fleur frowned as she turned from the mirror. "'Ermione, 'elp us!"

"Yeah Hermione," Angelina giggled, "help us! Don't you think Audrey deserves a Weasley?"

"When you put it that way," Hermione laughed as she carefully placed her glass of wine on the side of the bathtub. "Weasley's are ... yeah," she laughed again. "You should go for it."

"He might not be interested," Audrey pointed out in what she hoped was a reasonable tone.

"As if," Angelina snorted rudely, squinting into the mirror. "He's positively gagging for you."

"Anyway," Hermione tilted her head to one side, "Mrs Longbottom clearly isn't ready to go home any time soon, and it wouldn't be fair to make Neville and Hannah leave early, would it?"

"See!" Angelina pointed at the ceiling, drawing amused looks from Hermione and Fleur. "When in doubt, apply logic!"

oOo

"What was that?" Bill eyed his wife with fond suspicion.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Fleur poured herself a fresh glass and passed the bottle to Luna.

"You're up to something!" George's lips twitched.

"How blind are you?" Hannah sniggered, accepting the bottle from Luna, pouring herself a drink and then passing it on to Hermione – who shook her head and immediately gave it to Ginny.

"What?" Neville looked confused.

"Percy and Audrey, of course," Ginny snorted.

"I just gave them a leetle push in the right direction," Fleur shrugged.

oOo

"Thanks for bringing me home, Percy," Audrey smiled up at him, not really minding that she needed to hold onto his arm for a moment longer to steady herself.

"It was my pleasure," he said quickly. "I hope you had an enjoyable evening?"

"Oh yes," she nodded and reluctantly released his arm. "Did you?"

"Indeed." He gave a self-depreciating little chuckle. "I probably bored you silly. I've been told I do rather bang on a bit."

"No!" Her eyes widened. "I think you're really interesting." Then she blushed. Again. Lord, she really had to stop doing that. But he was blushing too, so it wasn't so bad ... and suddenly she felt impulsive. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"I – that ..." he cleared his throat and gazed at her with an earnest expression. "That would be lovely."

* * *

_Am I on a roll? Lord, I hope so! Thanks for the support, I really appreciate it!_


	49. Giddy

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Giddy

* * *

Ginny grinned and sat next to her friend on the lounge, toeing off her shoes and letting them drop to the floor next to Hermione's. "I feel like I haven't seen you all night."

"Don't exaggerate," Hermione smiled. "We saw each other at least twice!"

They waved to Professor McGonagall, but didn't rise from their seats, as she called out a cheerful "Merry Christmas!" and disappeared into the floo.

"I think it went well, don't you?" Ron flopped down on Hermione's other side and took her hand. "Hi Ginny. Where's Harry?"

"Seeing off Hagrid and Madam Maxime," Ginny yawned. "I'm not looking forward to cleaning this all up."

"It's the sign of a good night," Bill said from behind them, chuckling when they jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. "We're making a move soon, I think" he motioned to Fleur and her parents, who were talking to Molly and Andromeda. "Budge over. Where did George and Angelina disappear to?"

"Do you have to ask?" Ron sniggered. "Apparently they were _tired_. They scarped not long after Luna and Xeno went home."

"Ah."

oOo

"But I inseeest!" Apolline said firmly. "It eez ze least we can do after your great 'ospitality!"

Guillaume nodded vigorously, clutching his wife's arm to steady himself.

"Insist on what?" Arthur asked vaguely as he put out the lights on the Christmas tree.

"They're debating about the clean up," Kingsley yawned.

"And rightly so," Andromeda blinked to clear her vision. "It'll go much faster if we all chip in."

"Oh, all right then," Molly finally acquiesced, "I would like a few hours sleep before it all starts again." Smiling gently, she glanced over to the lounge suit. "We'll send them home, though, I think."

oOo

"Your first party, Harry," Ron laughed as they sat around the kitchen table with a pot of hot tea. "Do you feel like a grown up now?"

"Haha." Harry rubbed his face and suppressed a yawn. "I think it was _our _first party, Ron ... and right now I feel like an old man with a little bit of a hang-over."

"Not too much of one, I hope," Ginny said lightly.

"No, not too much," Harry bit back a laugh at Ron's resigned expression. "Sorry mate."

"'S fine." Ron rolled his eyes. "I know that you're just going to be in Ginny's room talking."

"Yeah, that's it exactly," Harry agreed. "Talking. Exactly like you and Hermione will be doing in your room right?"

"I dunno," Ron pulled Hermione, who was half asleep with her head resting on his shoulder, a little closer and planted a kiss on her temple. "Do you feel like talking 'Mione?"

"Definitely," Hermione smiled, "if that's what we're going to call it."

"So didn't need to hear that," Harry mumbled into his mug of tea.

"Now you know how I feel," Ron snorted.

oOo

Ron heaved a sigh of relief as they closed and sealed the door.

Finally.

It had been a long night. A good night – no, a great one! But long.

Watching Hermione mingle with their friends, talking to everyone she came across and making sure they knew she was genuinely interested in what they had to say. She really listened. It had hit him like a blow to the head; when she'd crossed the room with that silly bottle of champagne she'd snuck away from Uncle Lancelot, and come straight to him. Straight to his arms and leaned against him. He loved her. Well, obviously he knew that already – how could he not? But at that moment it had surged through him and left him breathless. He really, really loved her.

He wondered what it was he did in his life to be this lucky. He wondered if it would always be like this.

As he fumbled a bit with the fiddly little buttons on the back of her dress he couldn't help smiling.

"What?" She was all eyes as she looked at his reflection in the mirror, a smile at the corners of her mouth.

"I love you," he said simply. "That's all."

"What a coincidence," she bit her lip, in that way that sent him just a little mad. "I love you too."

"Works out well," he pushed the shoulders of her dress down her arms and then held her hand as it dropped to the floor and she stepped out of it. "I was thinking about tonight."

"What about it?" She helped him shrug out of his shirt.

"It was really good." His pants were gone now and he wondered if he should feel a little ridiculous standing in his underwear with his socks still on.

"Yes, it was," she was watching him curiously now, and his breath caught a little when she rested her hand lightly on his bare chest. "And?"

"And ..." he hesitated, gazing down at her, losing himself in her eyes. Suddenly he knew it was the right thing to do. "I don't want to wait." Taking both her hands in his, he held them tightly. "Say you'll marry me, before Christmas next year? Please?"

"Are you sure?" When he nodded, she pulled her hands from his and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Oh Ron! Yes!"

"You will?" He laughed happily. "Really?"

"Of course I will!" She laughed too, and shot him a wry look. "Did you really think I'd say no?"

"Well, you never know? Merlin ..." he cupped her face in his hands and their foreheads bumped together, making them laugh all over again. "This is bloody brilliant! Say it again!"

She kissed him firmly on the mouth. "We're getting married."

* * *

_How's the blood sugar going? :-P_

_There are these strange voices around here, and they're all saying "Mum, are you nearly finished? Mum, can I have go on the computer? Muuuuuuum!" so I'm off for a bit._


	50. Merry Christmas

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Merry Christmas

* * *

"MUM! MUM! WAKE UP! MUM!"

Molly's eyes snapped open when she realised that the persistent pounding on the bedroom door wasn't a dream.

"MUM! COME ON MUM! GET UP! IT'S IMPORTANT! MUM!"

"Arthur!" Molly shook her husband's shoulder, grabbed for her dressing gown and jumped out of bed. "Something's wrong with George!"

Arthur groaned and rolled over slowly, squinting at the bright morning. "He's fine Molly, just excited about Christmas. Go with him."

oOo

"What's all the racket?" Harry poked his head out of Ginny's door as Ron and Hermione thundered down the stairs.

"It's George ..." Ron panted as he skidded to a stop, awkwardly attempting to button his pyjama top and hold his wand at the same time.

"Something's wrong!" Hermione added, pulling her hair back into an elastic band, her wand clamped between her teeth.

"No." Harry shook his head. "Don't worry, everything's fine, you can take your time."

"What's going on?" Ginny appeared behind Harry, hair mussed and clearly still mostly asleep.

"There was all this yelling," Ron explained, calming down slightly, "and banging."

"Everything's fine," Harry repeated, and then turned to Ginny. "Can you pass my bathrobe please?"

"Sure." Ginny disappeared from view for only a second. "Ron," she grinned suddenly, "you might want to sort that out." She motioned to her own neck with a vague wave of her hand and gave Hermione an amused look. "Blimey, Hermione. Marking your territory much?"

"What?" Hermione looked at Ron curiously, coloured a little and reflexively pulled the collar of her own pyjamas a little higher. "Right, um ... better take care of that." Pointing her wand at Ron's neck, she muttered an incantation under her breath.

Ron touched the place where he could feel a cool tingling and shrugged, then looked at Harry with a slight frown. "So what's ...?"

"Go back upstairs and put on your bathrobes," Harry suggested, "then we can all go down together."

oOo

"HARRY!" Molly caught him in a bone crushing hug worthy of Hagrid and kissed both his cheeks soundly. "Bless you, you dear boy!"

"It wasn't just me!" Harry's cheeks burned. "It was Arthur too! Not just me!"

"Come now Harry," Arthur clapped him on the back, "take credit where it's due. It was your idea, I just helped a bit."

"Yeah, don't be so modest Harry," Portrait Fred laughed from his new position over the kitchen mantle, "enjoy the glory for a change."

oOo

"There's a life size one in the shop," George explained to Guillaume Delacour, "and a smaller one in the flat."

"Fascinating," said Guillaume, "and you can move between zem? Just like zat?" he asked Portrait Fred, clicking his fingers for emphasis.

"Sure can!" Portrait Fred chuckled. "Could have done without seeing that one's hairy arse when he got up first thing this morning though."

"Shouldn't have looked then, should you?" George sniggered, and then turned back to Guillaume. "I thought I was cracking up when he woke me up this morning."

"It was beautiful," Portrait Fred sighed happily, "the look on his face ... just beautiful."

oOo

What a Christmas! Ginny seriously doubted there would be another like it. What, with the rush to get Grimmauld Place ready for the party and then the party itself. She was surprised they'd pulled it all off as well as they had.

Then today! What a day. It was _almost _like having Fred back for real. Not quite, but she'd take whatever she could get ... and Harry hadn't said a word about it! Neither had her Dad, for that matter. What a sneaky pair they were.

Replete after a their huge Christmas feast, everyone had been reluctant to move from the kitchen until George had left for a date with Angelina and Portrait Fred slid away to have a good look around the shop. Then Percy had disappeared, tight lipped about his destination but smiling in a way that she'd not seen him do since he was about 15.

Somehow Apolline had even talked Mum and Dad into going with them into London for dinner, so now the house was quiet.

Ron and Harry were playing chess (no surprises there) and Hermione had already got a start on her new pile of books (again, hardly surprising). Ginny didn't feel like reading though, or playing chess ... she didn't feel like doing much of anything, she was happy to just sit and daydream.

She was especially happy to just watch Harry for a while, and the firelight glinting off his glasses as he stared with fierce concentration at the board before him.

Three years old, she'd been, when Harry Potter had first come into her life. It was Ron, of course, who'd introduced him to her – the first time by desperately trying to get out of going to bed, begging Dad to tell them just one more story.

"Tell us about Harry Potter!"

"What's Happy Otters?" Ginny dropped her dolly and settled down next to her Daddy expectantly.

"Not HAPPY OTTERS," Ron squealed with laugher, "HARRY POTTER! Don't you know anything?"

"I KNOW LOTS OF THINGS!" Ginny scowled and stuck out her tongue.

"That's enough you two," Arthur warned. "If you want another story you have to sit quietly, and then it's straight up to bed!"

So Dad had told them the story about the bad wizard who killed lots of people, including a little boys Mummy and Daddy, and then tried to kill the little boy but had been killed himself; and how the little boy was a hero for making the bad wizard go away and bringing peace back to the wizarding community.

The Boy Who Lived had captured her imagination and stayed there, no matter how hopeless he was at chess.

She remembered when Percy was getting ready to go to Hogwarts. She'd flicked through his second-hand copy of "Modern History of Wizarding Britain", and by the end of the week she knew the "Harry Potter" page by heart.

_What a riot! _She laughed at herself, remembering the way she'd stutter and generally act like an idiot around Harry. How long had it taken her to realise that he was just flesh and blood like everyone else? Not that long, really, and it had only made her worse. He did all the stupid things that Ron did, but when it was Harry she'd thought it was cool.

Well, aside for when it was really annoying and pigheaded, then she just wanted to shake him; tell him that he was being an idiot for martyring himself and that it was perfectly alright to accept other peoples help, even if it was just in the form of admitting he was feeling unsure of himself. That didn't happen as often anymore, and hopefully in the next few years it would stop altogether. Sometimes it worried her. She wasn't fool enough to believe that The Great Harry Potter was anything more than a normal man with a huge heart, but other people still did ... and he put pressure on himself because of it. She wondered if it was possible to hug the damage of his childhood out of him.

_Well, I'll certainly give it a good try! _

Yup. Water was still wet, the sky was still blue and Ron had pummelled Harry in their game. She watched as Harry raised his hands in defeat with a self-deprecating laugh and Ron packed the chess pieces away.

"You look like you've been doing some heavy thinking," Harry settled himself comfortably beside her.

"Hmm. Not heavy, just thinking." She closed her eyes and smiled, snuggling into him when he wrapped his arms around her. "I was just thinking about when I was a kid," she opened her eyes again and laughed. "Back when I had a raging crush on you, but had no idea who you were."

"Oh." Harry chuckled. "You mean before you met me and realised that I was just a moody git like everyone else."

"Exactly," she agreed.

"Nice," Harry tried to look offended, but couldn't quite pull it off.

"I speak only the truth," Ginny intoned.

"Well, come and speak the truth upstairs," he murmured, "Ron and Hermione are making sappy faces at each other."

"Again?" Ginny watched them curiously. "Heh. Yeah, they've been doing that all day, now that you mention it."

"I know," Harry smirked, "had to laugh this morning."

"This morning?"

"Ron and the love bites ," Harry explained.

"Oh yeah," Ginny chortled. "Hermione might have the right idea though," she leered at him comically, "should I stake my claim on your neck, Mr Potter?"

"Stake it where ever you like," Harry leered right back at her, "I can take it."

oOo

"Would you look at that!" Angelina gasped.

"Look at what?" George asked, turning away from the menu he had been perusing in the widow of an Indian restaurant.

"That!" Angelina raised her gloved hand to point. "Across the road. It's Percy and Audrey, see?"

"Well bugger me!" George laughed. "Let's follow them!"

"Alright," Angelina agreed, "but be nice, OK? No trip jinxes or anything like that."

"I would never," George clutched at his heart and looked horrified.

"Yes you would," Angelina chortled, tugging on his arm, "come on, they're on the move. Let's go!"

oOo

"Ice cream?" George wrinkled his nose. "They're buying ice-cream, in this weather?"

"Each to their own," Angelina shrugged, "personally I'd be more inclined to a firewhiskey."

"I tend to agree," George said, "oh look, he's gone the hand-hold! Smooth work, Percy."

Angelina giggled. "I'm sure he'd be thrilled to know you approve."

"'Course he would," George laughed. "Hey, we're not far from The Leaky. Shall we drop them when we get down there and go in for that firewhiskey?"

"Definitely! I'm freezing. Damn ... she doesn't half talk a blue streak when she gets going, does she? And here I was thinking she was shy and quiet."

"A good match for our Percy then," George observed, and then grabbed her arm. "He's going to kiss her! See? He's actually kissing her!"

"And she's kissing him back! Right in public and everything!" Angelina's face split into a wide grin. "It's so sweet I could puke!"

"Audrey seems quite happy with it," said George.

"'Course she is," Angelina scoffed, "she's fancied him since she was in third year."

"How do you know? Merlin! Again Percy? You sly old dog!" George laughed. "Good to know he's still got the Weasley in him."

"Hannah told me last night," Angelina said vaguely. "Oh no! They're turning around, quick!" She dragged him into a recessed shop-front.

"He's going to kill us," George whispered, stifling laughter, "lean right against the door, I'll hide you!"

"Well hello there George," Angelina giggled as he pressed right against her, "suddenly I'm warm again."

"Me too." He shot her lopsided grin. "While we're here ..."

"Be a shame to waste the opportunity," she agreed, brushing her lips over his. "Merry Christmas George."

"Hmmm. Merry Christmas, Angie."

* * *

_That's if for today! Places to go, people to see, things to do, that sort of thing._

_Is it really sad that I actually get a little bit of a thrill when I get good reviews? LOL. Can't help it, it does the confidence good. Thanks!_


	51. 27Dec1998

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

27th December, 1998

* * *

Hermione Jean Granger. Book lover. Model student. Head Girl of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1998-1999. War Veteran. One of The Three. Holder of The Fawkes Medal. Order of Merlin, First Class.

Ronald Bilius Weasley. Chess lover. Average student. Reluctant Gryffindor Prefect, 1995-1997. War Veteran. One of The Three. Holder of The Fawkes Medal. Order of Merlin, First Class.

Two normal people, sprawled comfortably on the bed in the top room of The Burrow, wondering how to go about things.

"So are we going to tell them or what?" Ron aimed his wand at a crack in the ceiling and shot off a quick spell. The crack only sealed half way, so he tried again. Success. "Good spell that one; I'll have to remember it for the house."

"I don't know." Hermione closed her book and let it fall to the floor with a thud. "Part of me wants to keep it to myself." She twisted round and leaned up on one elbow so she could see his face, and was rewarded with a lazy smile. "A happy secret I can pull out and look at when I'm back at school. Is that silly?"

"Nah, that's not silly," he absently twirled a lock of her hair around his little finger, "I'll be doing the same thing. What about the other part?"

"The other part," Hermione giggled, "wants to put a full page announcement in every damn newspaper in the country just so everyone knows who happy I am."

"And here I was just wanting to shout it from the rooftops and all that," Ron laughed.

"Well have to tell them eventually."

"Not yet," he pulled her closer. "Let's save the shouting for another day ... or we could just send out invitations a couple of weeks before, technically that's telling them."

"Your Mum would kill us!"

"Wouldn't she just!" Ron sniggered. "I suppose we really shouldn't deny her the pleasure of organising something."

"I wouldn't dare," Hermione buried her face in the crook of his neck, "can you imagine?"

"All too well. That means eloping is out of the question," Ron snorted.

"Completely," she agreed. "There is something we can do now though!"

"What?"

"Get up!" Rolling off the bed, despite his grumbled protests, she held out her hand and then pulled him up with her. "Get flying clothes on and meet me by the broom shed in five minutes."

oOo

Ron waited until she was settled comfortably behind him and holding on tightly before he kicked off. "Where are we going?"

"Head for Bude," she stated baldly.

"Bude?" He twisted around to gape at her and the broom dropped sharply, eliciting a squeak of alarm from Hermione. "Sorry love, but WHAT? That's hours away."

"That's why I asked Harry if we could borrow the Firebolt," she told him.

oOo

"Down there alright?" Ron yelled, not entire sure if Hermione could even hear him through the rushing wind surrounding them, and the scarf he had wrapped around his face. She must have done though, because he felt her nod against his back; so he eased down carefully, all the while keep a look out for hiking muggles, and came down with a soft landing beside a straggly clump of bushes. "This is great!"

"Isn't it beautiful," she pulled her own scarf down t her throat and took in a deep breath of the frozen, salty air. "Even better, feel free to shout!"

"You are mental!" Ron laughed. "Utterly, completely mental!"

"Shall I take that as a compliment?"

"Absolutely," he nodded enthusiastically and hugged her to him, then turned to the vast ocean.

"WE'RE GETTING MARRIED!"

"Feel better now?"

"Just about," he was fishing around in his coat pocket. "There's one more thing that needs doing. Got it." He thrust a small purple box into her gloved hand. "It's not technically an engagement ring, but I think you'll like it."

Hermione laughed as she opened the box. "You're unbelievable, you are!" She pulled the glove of her left hand with her teeth and passed the now open box back to him. "You should do the thing right and put it on me."

"Happy to ... hang on a minute, if we're going to do this properly we might as well go the whole hog." He dropped to one knee, held out the box and effected a solemn expression. "Hermione Granger."

"Ron," she giggled, "really ..."

"Hush," he scolded gently, valiantly trying to keep from laughing. "I'm trying to be mature and romantic here!" Clearing his throat loudly, he started again. "Hermione Granger. I love you so much I can't even believe it myself. Would you do me the honour of being my wife and putting up with me for the rest of our natural lives, and even after that?"

"Forever and ever, amen," she promised, feeling oddly teary as he slid the ring onto her finger.

"Good. Now can you help me up?" He grimaced. "I banged my knee on a rock."

"Goose," she chortled, pulling on his arm.

"Thanks." He shook his leg around experimentally and pulled a face. "It's a bit big, isn't it." He wiggled the ring around her finger. "I can fix that if you like; but it's really supposed to be a dressing up ring."

"Well now it's my engagement ring, so if you can make it fit? When was I supposed to get it, really?" She watched, fascinated, as he turned her hand palm up and touched the tip of his wand to the band. "And how do you know how to do that?"

"So many questions," he smiled as he turned her hand back around and looked at it. "It was going to be for Easter, to go with the necklace and bracelet. Fleur showed me the spell when she went with me to buy them."

"I'll have to remember to thank her," she murmured, brushing her finger gently over the sparkling stones, "and I'm going to hate taking it off. I suppose I can put it on a chain around my neck, but it's not quite the same thing."

"Oh well. Don't worry about that now, there's no one here to see it anyway." He handed her back her glove. "Better put that back on though, it's freezing."

"I've got a better idea," she raised her eyebrows and took off the other glove.

Ron knew that look. "You're brilliant, you are. It has been a while since we've been outside."

oOo

Molly and Arthur were standing by the sink peeling potatoes for dinner when Ron and Hermione flew back into the garden. They landed with a thud, both of them covered in snow and laughing hysterically.

_Silly children, flying on a day like this. _"Ron and Hermione are back," she said casually.

"Righto," Arthur glanced up from his work. "Just in time to clean up before dinner."

"They'll have a bit of clean up to do," she laughed, "covered in all that snow. Merlin knows where they've been."

"Snow? It didn't snow today, did it?"

"Not anywhere near here," Molly shrugged. Just as she was about to return her attention to dinner, a bright flash of light caught her eye. "What was that?"

"What was what, dear?" Arthur squinted. "Hmph. Need new glasses."

"Never mind, I must have imagined it." But she knew she hadn't, and her suspicions were confirmed when Ron and Hermione came bounding through the back door cheerfully. As if they didn't have a care in the world, until they saw Molly and Arthur standing by the window. She could have almost laughed at the looks on their faces. _What have you two been up to? _Although they covered up quickly enough. Well, Hermione did ... there wasn't much Ron could do with those Weasley ears of his.

"Hello dears," Molly said mildly, "hurry upstairs to put on some dry clothes, and then could you call Harry and Ginny for dinner?"

oOo

"Don't be silly Mollywobbles," Arthur laughed, "they were probably just off somewhere having sex."

"Rubbish," she snorted, "they're always doing that. I'm telling you, they've gone off and got married."

"I'm quite sure they would have mentioned it," Arthur pointed out, sliding into bed next to his wife and taking off his glasses. "They both know perfectly well that you'd skin them alive if they didn't."

"Hm. You have a point. But they've still been up to something more than the usual roll in the hay ... or snow, as the case may be."

"What makes you think that?"

"I know what I saw! When they were playing around outside there was a flash of light, and it came from Hermione's hand. Ohhhh." Molly burst into sudden laughter.

"Ohhhh?" Arthur put his glasses back on. It was just much easier to talk that way.

"It was an engagement ring!"

"Oh, bloody hell." Arthur rolled his eyes. "Tell me you're joking."

"What?"

"They're far too young to get married!" Taking off his glasses, again, he rubbed his face.

"They're the same age as we were when we got engaged," she pointed out.

"Totally different," he mumbled, "not the same thing at all."

"How do you come to that conclusion?" Molly asked sharply.

"It just isn't," he scowled. "They're supposed to be doing stupid young people things, not running around being _responsible_."

"I don't _believe_ you!" Molly slapped his arm. Hard. "You're perfectly happy for them to live together like a married couple, as long as they don't actually get married? How is it any different?"

"It's different," Arthur snapped, "because Ron is our youngest son and it makes me feel like an old man."

"Oh, now you're just being ridiculous!" Molly sniggered.

"So?" Arthur folded his arms. "I can be ridiculous if I like."

"Clearly," Molly's lips twitched.

"You didn't have to agree with me." Arthur pulled a face. "What you're supposed to say is 'It's OK Arthur, you're not an old man yet, I still love you!'"

"Oh for goodness bloody sake!" Molly rolled her eyes and sighed. "It's OK Arthur, you're not an old man yet, I still love you. Is that better?"

"You could say it like you actually mean it," he grumbled.

"Oh, come here you silly old man," she gathered him in her arms and hugged him tightly. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Wild hot sex?" Arthur suggested hopefully.

"Only if you promise me that you'll be happy for them when they finally get around to telling us."

"Alright, I can do that," he laughed. "We've had this conversation before."

"Yes we have, and I was completely wrong. So no trying to talk them out of it!" She waggled her finger at him.

"OK, I'll behave. But you'll have to keep on reminding me that I'm not an ancient old fart with dodgy knees and no lead in his pencil."

"I can do that."

* * *

_Ooops! I'm really pushing the Molly and Arthur angle, aye? LOL. Sorry, it just sort of happened!_


	52. The Burrow

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

The Burrow

* * *

"_10 – 9 – 8 – 7 – 6 – 5 – 4 – 3 – 2 – 1 _

_HAPPY NEW YEAR!"_

There was kissing and hugging and laughter.

Then there were gasps of delight and awe as everyone stood arm in arm to watch bright sparklers and rockets and whizzers and bangers shower a profusion of stars and squiggles all over her and her garden.

Each person there. Mother and Father. Boyfriend and Girlfriend. Sister and Brother. Husband and Wife. Each and every one of them offered up a silent wish to the universe – she could feel them do it. Let this be a good year. A quiet year and a safe one.

She was still shaking a little on her foundations from the explosions, and she heaved a sigh of relief when they trouped back into her walls. The ghoul clanged on his pipes in celebration and Crookshanks decided it was safe enough to come out of hiding and seek scratches behind his ears.

If she had a voice, she would have been laughing and singing along with them all – especially when George dipped Angelina nearly to the floor in an extravagant kiss. No matter, the family did it for her.

She needed the love that sunk into her walls, it kept her standing, and it had been _so hard_ to keep from falling apart when the family had to flee. But she'd kept it together, knowing they'd be back in some shape or form. The ghoul had helped, moaning and rattling around to remind her that he, at least, was still there to keep her company.

The floo tickled her, and she knew it was George and Angelina going back to the flat. Then Percy and Audrey, soon followed by Bill and Fleur.

Part of her didn't like that they had left her, even if it was the natural order of things. She knew they had to grow, and she was so proud of them for doing it so well ... she just wished they could do it with her. She had to accept that one day, maybe sooner than she'd be happy with, it would be just her Arthur and Molly again ... but she still knew the feeling of each one whenever they came back to her.

Oh how her shingles had quivered on Christmas morning when she'd felt the shadow of her Fred return! That day had made her stronger than ever, with all the goings on.

Now they were going to bed, so she let the cat out and locked her own doors – they often forgot to lock the doors – and waited patiently for Ron to lose patience with his owl ... and there it was, the silly little animal, shooting out the window and fluttering around her chimney.

Settling down for the night, The Burrow decided to stay awake for a bit, just to watch the fairies play.

* * *

_A bit twee? :-)_


	53. 3rd January 1999

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

3rd January 1999

* * *

Audrey gave a short wave as she came down the street at a smart pace. "You're early," she smiled as she came abreast of him and they walked together to her front door.

"Sorry," Percy blushed, "I didn't want to be late."

"Don't apologise," Audrey glanced up and down the street furtively before pulling out her wand and pointing it at the door. Then she used her muggle keys to let them both in.

Once inside, she flicked on the hall lights and then locked the door securely behind them, again pointing her wand and it and muttering under her breath.

When she noticed Percy watching curiously, she blushed fiercely. "Don't worry," she offered him a weak grin, "I'm just a bit ... uh ... security conscious."

"I think we all are," he said, quite seriously. "I've only recently talked myself out of sleeping with my wand under my pillow."

"So it isn't just me then," she half laughed, sounding relieved. "Anyway, come through. Did you have a nice day?"

"Yes, very good, thank you." Percy followed her into the kitchen and took a seat when she motioned to the small table. "Yourself?"

Audrey set the kettle on the stove and sat opposite him. "It was very nice. Hannah decided to stay for tea; Neville's Great Uncle Algie seems to have taken quite the shine to her." She giggled. "I think Neville might have some trouble tearing her away."

"Oh dear," Percy chuckled. "Poor Hannah." He sobered as a movement caught the corner of his eye and he automatically glanced at a large photograph propped up on the kitchen mantle. "How was your father today? Any change?"

"He's in good spirits," Audrey said with slightly forced brightness. "No clue who any of us are, or where he is, but he was glad of the company."

"Don't lose all hope," he squeezed her hand. "Gilderoy Lockhart is improving slowly, so you never know."

She didn't look entirely convinced as she twisted around the study the photograph, although she knew it by heart. "Sometimes, I don't think I want him to," she admitted quietly. "That sounds awful, doesn't it? But I'm not sure he even knows about Mum."

"No," Percy shook his head as the kettle started to whistle, and he got up to make the tea. "It's a perfectly understandable reaction, especially if he seems to be happy." He carried the pot to the table as the cups and saucers floated along behind. "It's a lot for you to bear though. Do you think, maybe ..." his voice trailed off as he tried to form his thoughts. "Maybe there's a part of him that does know?"

"Hannah thinks so," Audrey admitted. "We don't know what happened, no one does, and we never will unless Dad comes to his senses. Honestly," she dropped her voice, "I wouldn't blame him if he does know, somewhere in his heart, and that's what's keeping him away. Mum was always the stronger one. Anyway!" She shook her head impatiently. "I thought you we were having dinner?" Draining her cup and placing it carefully on the waiting saucer. "What do you feel like?"

"There's an Indian restaurant I'd quite like to try, not far from Diagon Alley, if you don't mind?" Percy said. "Angelina recommended it as having good food and a clean kitchen. How does that sound?"

"It sounds lovely." She flashed him a genuine smile and accepted his hand.

* * *

_Back again! Yes, this was short. _

_I've started a course, and its causing severe brain-drain on my part - who knew sitting around in front of a computer and studying could be so damn exhausting - but I've got a couple of days off so I'm hoping to get quite a few chapters up in the next week (you know not to hold your breath, right?). If all goes to plan, I'll have this finished by Christmas at the very latest._


	54. 15th October 1996

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

15th October 1996

* * *

Wilfred fairly bounced up the steps from the tube into the bright, crisp autumn day. It wasn't often he managed to snag an afternoon off; but he'd been doing double shifts at St Mungo's for the last month, so when Elliston had offered to take his afternoon he'd been more than happy to agree.

Stopping at the little flower shop on the corner, he picked out a cheery bunch of pink and orange gerberas and grinned to himself. An early birthday present – with plenty more to come next week.

Audrey was going to mind the house for them while they took a nice, relaxed cruise along part of the Gironde estuary in Bordeaux. He'd rented them a tidy little houseboat so they could stop and start as they please and Lucy was going to love it! Not the best time of the year, possibly, but as long as they were discreet it was nothing that an atmospheric charm couldn't take care of.

All things going to plan, they'd be back a few weeks before Christmas.

Three steps.

One step to the corner. One step across the middle. One step to the other side.

The front door of their neat little house, one up two down, was visible from the corner.

Ripped from its hinges. Torn to shreds.

He started to run, although he really didn't want to know ... but he had to know.

Time seemed to speed up and slow down all at once and no matter how hard he ran he didn't seem to get any closer and suddenly he was right there in his living room and everything was smashed up into a thousand little pieces.

Blood on the walls ... and there was his Lucy, white and brittle and cold.

* * *

_Sorry. This is just the beginning of the chapter, and I don't know when the rest will be up, it's been sitting around for a couple of weeks. I don't have the heart to finish it at the moment._

_

* * *

_

_Joanna T. 24 August 1970 – 12 November 2010._

_The happiest person I ever knew. The most enthusiastic, affectionate and by far the friendliest. I can't imagine what your kids, husband, parents and sisters must be feeling at the moment._

_We had some fun though, didn't we? I know we embarrassed the shit out of the kids when they were playing soccer, god knows they told us enough times ... but at least they knew we were paying attention, aye? It just isn't going to be the same without you. _

_I love you._


	55. 25th August, 1997

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

25th August, 1997

Wilfred couldn't believe this was happening. He'd been extremely wary of signing the Muggle-Born Register; but there hadn't been much option, considering he'd had a personal visit from several "Ministry Officials", who had essentially insisted that he sign the damn thing.

Ministry Officials, indeed. He'd never seen them before, and he'd been in and out of the ministry for years now. It wasn't until he'd perceived a veiled threat toward his daughters that he'd finally capitulated.

Still, he'd though he'd be alright. Supposedly the hearing had been to establish wizarding heritage in his ancestry ... and he had that! His paternal grandfather had been a wizard, who had fallen in love with – and married – a muggle girl from the village. It had been a bit of a scandal at the time, and Wilfred had been quite sure that there were still some alive today, in Godric's Hollow, who would remember gossip about the whole affair.

He'd been right about that. Old Bathilda remembered it all quite clearly; she'd written at statement to that effect and even found a few old diary entries from the time, recalling the to-do. He also had photographs of the grave of his great-grandparents; along with birth, marriage and death certificates clearly proving his lineage.

But she wouldn't listen.

Why wouldn't she listen?

Dolores Umbridge had accused him of _stealing another wizards magic._ Frankly, it was physically impossible to do so. You either had magic or you didn't, there wasn't any in-between and it certainly wasn't possible for a muggle to _steal _magic! The very idea was ludicrous!

* * *

26th August, 1997

They hadn't even allowed him a proper good-bye. Audrey and Hannah's stunned, horrified expressions remained with him. All he had managed was to call out "I love you!" before the Dementors had dragged him away.

* * *

27th August, 1997

Cold. Cold and dark and dank. Over and over he relived his worst memories. His father's lingering death to cancer. His mother's body swinging from the rafters in the attic a few short weeks later. And his Lucy ... it always came back to Lucy.

Cold and lifeless in the front room, porcelain perfect among the chaos of smashed furniture.

This would never have happened if Lucy had still been with him. She would have fixed it. Lucy could fix everything. Lucy was well respected in the ministry, and she knew the laws backwards. Maybe that's why they'd killed her.

He wondered how Audrey and Hannah were coping without them.

* * *

31st August 1997

Holy hell the screaming. He really couldn't stand the screaming. They never shut up ... especially at night. He tried to shove himself into the corner of his cell, wrap the blanket around his head, hide from it all ... but he couldn't block it out, it permeated everything and his even his bones were ringing with it.

Lucy's hair was brown like Audrey's, and there were shards of glass glittering in the curling ends as her blue eyes – so like Hannah's – blinked up at him. They'd never blinked at him before. He wondered how that could work, when her neck was at such mistaken angle.

He didn't care how it worked, as long as he didn't have to look at his Mum's dangling feet anymore.

His jaw ached, and why did his throat hurt so?

* * *

3rd September 1997

Lucy always had the answers. She took Mum down from the rafters and told her not to be silly; Dad was just around the corner getting the paper and some milk. Lucy made everyone tea.

Wilfred liked tea.

* * *

_So that's the second half. Cheerful, aye?_


	56. 4th January, 1999

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

4th January, 1999.

* * *

"It's raining," Hermione wrinkled her nose as she turned from the window.

"It's half six," Ron mumbled, rubbing his face and rolling over onto his side. "Come back to bed."

"But we were going to go walking with Harry and Ginny today," Hermione reminded him, leaning against his desk.

Conceding defeat, Ron gave an exaggerated sigh and rolled slowly out of bed, wincing slightly as his bare feet made contact with the cold boards of the floor. Ducking his head to avoid an inconvenient rafter, he sloped to the window and peered out into the garden and the fields beyond with a practised eye. "It'll clear up by morning tea," he yawned and then stretched, accidentally whacking his knuckles on the rafter he'd just avoided with his head.

Stifling a giggle she watched has he rubbed his hand and swore under his breath. She grinned and took his hand to plant a quick kiss on the knuckles in question. "At least it wasn't your head."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Ron chuckled ruefully as he, too, leaned on his desk ... but then changed his mind when it gave a warning creak. "Are you -"

He was interrupted by a knock on the door and grumbled under his breath a bit more when Harry's voice floated through to them. "Everyone decent in there?"

"Too bad if we weren't," Hermione muttered and pointed her wand at the door.

"Breakfast is on the table," Harry said as he walked in through the now-open door. "Ginny said she wants to get an early start."

"Good morning to you too," Hermione laughed.

"Where are we going?" Ron wanted to know, searching under the bed for his slippers.

"Ullswater," Harry said promptly, and, at Ron's blank look, added, "no idea. Cumbria, so she says."

Apparently none-the-wiser, Ron looked to Hermione.

"Its part of the Lake District," she informed them both and pointed her finger at Ron. "We went there in August."

"Oh ..." Ron nodded slowly. "The waterfalls? Yeah ... yeah, that was good."

oOo

"Do you think it's going to let up any time soon?" Harry asked, shaking the water from his hair as the four of them took shelter in the recessed front of a shoe-shop.

"Soon enough," Ginny predicted.

"After we've had a cup of tea and a bun," Ron nodded toward a small shop across the road, and grinned at Hermione. Taking his hand firmly in hers, she set off across the road at a smart pace leaving Harry and Ginny to follow in their wake.

By the time Harry and Ginny pushed open the door of the little tea-shop, Ron and Hermione were already seated side-by-side and looking at the menu.

"Do we really need a menu for a cup of tea and a bun?" Ginny raised her brows as she slid into the chair opposite her brother.

"Definitely," Ron said as Hermione handed Harry the menu.

"So what are we having?" Harry asked.

"WE aren't having anything," Ron snorted, "I'M having a cream tea, and Hermione's having ..."

"A cappuccino and a cinnamon scroll," Hermione said, with a little laugh and a pointed look at Ron. "And if I'm lucky I might get a bit of scone from Mr No-Share here."

Ron let out a long-suffering sort of sigh. "You could just get your own."

"But I don't want an entire cream tea," Hermione frowned playfully, resting her hand on his thigh under the table and squeezing it gently. "Just a taste."

"A taste?" Ron slid his fingers over hers and kept them there. "I know all about you and your _just a taste. _You'll gobble up the lot."

Hermione was saved from coming up with an answer by the timely arrival of the waitress.

oOo

Ginny studied the information board carefully. "We take this path here," she told Harry, "from behind the National Trust," she gestured with her hand vaguely, "and we head north along the woodland walk."

"The one which that crowd of people just went toward?" Harry pulled a bit of a face.

"That's the one," Ginny agreed, "Hermione said most people go straight for the Aria waterfall, isn't that right?"

"That's right," Hermione confirmed, "we're going to go across the footbridge, and then over to the right, which takes us up to High Force waterfall and Gowbarrow Fell."

Of the four of them; Harry was definitely the least inclined to walking – or rambling, as Hermione liked to call it - as a form of relaxation and entertainment, but he had to admit that the gently undulating path was nothing if not picturesque. He also wouldn't have chosen quite such a ... uh ... brisk ... day to visit, but now that the rain had slowed to a fine drizzle it was really rather nice. Even better, the higher they climbed the less people they came across; so soon enough the four of them were the only ones about and it seemed a natural progression that their steady flow of conversation soon turned to a comfortable silence with only a few murmured remarks about a particularly beautiful tree or unusual snatch of bird-song.

He supposed he should just enjoy the day for what it was, but he couldn't help thinking about the weeks to come. Ginny and Hermione would be going back to Hogwarts in the morning, and then he'd be back to Auror training the week after that. Then what?

His days went by quickly enough, filled as they were with 5am starts and various fitness exercises (though he could have done without last months "quick dip" in the North Sea), followed by Defensive Theory and Poisons Recognition. It was the nights when everything ground to a halt.

Part of him was starting to regret signing up for training so quickly after the war. It was the same part of him that wished he'd stayed on at the shop to help George for a couple of years, with Ron. On the other hand, there were still dark wizards out there and he knew he had to help.

He'd got a bit of a ribbing from his fellow trainee's. Surely The Chosen One didn't need training? But it was all in good fun, and they understood well enough – there were only three of them. Harry himself, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Michael Corner. Countless others had chosen to go straight to the Auror department, to be paired up with an experienced Auror, and start tracking the remaining Death Eaters straight away.

Justin had had "a hell of a time" convincing his parents it was safe to re-enter the wizarding world. Personally he would have chosen to go straight to the department as well, but taking the training was the compromise he had made with his mother.

Michael Corner wanted to do the thing properly. He wanted to know everything there was to know and he wanted to be the best he could possibly be. By his reasoning, that wouldn't happen if he didn't go through the proper training process.

Both of them had laughed and nodded when Harry had told them he quite liked the idea of not being a mortal danger for a while, thanks very much ... and Michael had added, rather "helpfully" that Harry was sure to have a great big target all over his back until the remaining Death Eaters had been rounded up.

Michael and Justin were alright, but Harry was starting to feel isolated. He was hard pressed to decide who he missed the most.

Then he gave himself a mental shake. He got to go back to The Burrow for weekends to spend time with Ron and work on Grimmauld Place, and things could have been a lot lonelier if George hadn't given them those mirrors. Being able to have a chat with Hermione every night was a great relief, and (very soppily) he loved falling asleep listening to Ginny's breathing. By the middle of the year Ginny be out of Hogwarts and back at The Burrow. Even better, second year trainee's weren't obliged to live-in at the Ministry.

No, he really had no reason to complain at all.

"Sickle for them?" Ginny asked, and he thought she looked a little amused at the way he'd clearly been lost in thought.

"Not worth the money," he murmured, turning to look at her properly. Her cheeks were pink (as was her nose, just a bit) and her eyes were sparkling. A few little wisps of hair had escaped from under her hat and she wore the same exhilarated expression she had whenever she was playing Quiddich. He laughed for no particular reason. "I was just thinking what a nice day it is."

oOo

Hermione heard it first. A low rumble from some distance away. Tugging at Ron's hand, she pulled him along even faster.

"Calm down, it'll still be there in 20 minutes." Ron had heard it just after she had, and had no difficulty adjusting his long stride to her quicker one. He looked back at Ginny and Harry, several yards behind them. "Hurry up you lot," he called, "we're almost there."

"You go on ahead and wait for us," Ginny laughed, "it's not a race."

"Suit yourself," Ron shrugged, "follow the main path and you can't miss it." Turning his back on his sister and best friend, he added in a low voice. "Remember the last time we were here?"

"I've been thinking about it all morning," Hermione admitted quietly and shot him a significant look as she took hold of his arm.

She was quite sure she could hear laugher following them into the crushing blackness of apparition, but it was gone the moment they handed heavily on the spongy earth.

"Me too," Ron said, glancing around to make sure they were on their own.

There wasn't a soul to be seen; just them, a few birds who had hung around to brave the winter and the waterfall. They'd come out right beside the top of it, could have dipped their hands in the rushing water just before it started the long drop if they'd wanted.

Hermione had their favourite privacy charms set up in no time at all, so that the great gushing boom of the waterfall receded into a muffled rumble and the temperature rose a little as the wind dropped away.

Turning around, she found Ron standing close and studying her through half-shut eyes. "You ate half of my scones again," he murmured, lips twitching.

"I did," Hermione slid her arms around his neck, "sorry about that."

"No you're not," he touched his lips to hers, "you're not sorry at all. I knew you were going to do it all along."

"And yet," she returned his kiss with one of her own, "you failed to stop me."

"Funny about that," he walked her backward to lean against a tree and his hands began to rove along her sides, sneaking under her heavy jacket and pullover. "I learned a new trick the other day," he whispered against her cheek. "What to see it?"

"Go on then."

Unhurriedly he stepped away and pulled his wand from his coat pocket, holding her gaze all while. She broke into a grin, impressed at the two tidy piles of folded clothes just to their right.

"Did Ginny show you the spell?"

Ron shook his head and smirked slightly. "I figured it out on my own; I don't even know if it's the same as yours." Tilting his head to one side, his eyes narrowed and his smirk deepened. "Bit cold?"

Hermione just laughed. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Dunno." He pointed his wand at the ground and then sat, leaning back on his arms and stretching out his legs. "We could have a nice chat for 15 minutes, or you could come here and sit on my cock."

Hermione pretended to think it over for a few moments before finally stepping over him and settling on his thighs, pouting slightly. "No foreplay?"

"Do you think you're going to get foreplay," Ron chuckled, cupping her cheek with one hand and swiping his thumb over her bottom lip, "after scoffing down half of my morning tea?"

"I did offer you some of my cinnamon scroll," she pointed out as she leaned forward and kissed his shoulder.

The last time they had been here they'd whispered to each other and taken their time with things. It had been a slow, sensual series of shared hours, gentle in the extreme and unutterably romantic.

There was nothing romantic about the way he sunk one hand into her hair and pulled her head back to expose her neck, and nothing gentle about the way he slid two fingers inside her without preamble, only to pull them out again just as quickly and slide them up to, over and around her clit repeatedly – all the while watching her with those half-closed eyes and self-satisfied smirk.

She loved it when he got like this. He was as far away from passive as a person could be, which suited her perfectly, but on very rare occasions the alpha side of him would come all the way out, and she'd find herself well and truly at his mercy.

His hands and mouth seemed to be everywhere, stroking and squeezing, licking and sucking and biting, and all she could do was remember to breathe between gasps and moans and the occasional whimper of protest when he deliberately took his hand away from her at just the right moment, only to have him start it all over again.

Finally. He sunk his hands into her hair and kissed her hard on the mouth before moving his lips to her ear and growling out an order. "Get on."

oOo

"At last!" Ginny laughed as she and Harry rounded the last corner and found themselves staring up at High Force.

"OK, that's worth the walk," Harry nodded and waved at Ron and Hermione, who were sitting on a picnic rug under the trees and drinking tea.

"'Bout time you lot got here," Ron called out cheerfully, "we were about to send out a search party."

"Oh, stop it," Hermione chided as Harry and Ginny approached, "we were going to do no such thing. Tea? Sandwich?"

"Thanks," Harry took the bacon sandwich Ron handed him and bit into it hungrily. "I'm beginning to see the appeal of all of this nature business," he admitted. "You two certainly look relaxed and happy."

Ginny snorted into her tea, but chose not to state the obvious. Instead she consulted the map. "Gowbarrow Fell next?"

* * *

_Thanks for the brilliant reviews! They're really great! :-D_


	57. Evening

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

4rd January, 1999.

(Evening)

* * *

~Ginny's Room, The Burrow, Damson Lane, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon.~

A young woman with vivid bright hair was standing before an open trunk, pointing her wand at it and muttering under her breath.

A young man with wild dark hair sat on her bed, watching her with a slight smile.

She wasn't particularly happy with the present task at hand, and she wasn't particularly happy about going back to school. Frankly, he wasn't especially thrilled with the present circumstances himself and couldn't help agreeing with her when she gave vent to her feelings in a furious whisper.

Still, in an effort to make her feel better, he reminded her that it was only for half a year, they would see each other in a few weeks, Easter break always seemed to come quickly and – most importantly - the professional Quiddich teams would be sending scouts out in May.

True, true. She nodded her agreement and flashed him a smile. Sometimes she _did _forget the bigger picture; and if she wanted the attention of the league, she did actually have to be there.

She went to resume her packing, but was surprised when he took the wand from her hand and placed it carefully on her bed-side table. Looking at him curiously, she broke into a grin when he made a show of throwing his arms around her dramatically and pretending to sob; then he kissed her thoroughly before taking her spell books from the floor and putting them in her truck.

The quicker they got it done, the sooner they could do something a lot more enjoyable.

oOo

~Ron's Room, The Burrow, Damson Lane, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon.~

A young woman with wild dark hair was standing before an open trunk, pointing her wand at it and muttering under her breath.

A young man with vivid bright hair lounged on his bed, thoroughly enjoying the banter between them as he teased her about leaving her packing to the last night.

She told him it was entirely his fault, he was far too distracting for his own good ... and if he wasn't going to help, the least he could do was keep his clever remarks to himself.

Laughing, he reminded her of the last time he'd offered to help her pack – nothing was in the right spot and his folding wasn't up to her standard - and he laughed even harder when she turned around and fixed him with a fierce look. Of course her lips started to twitch, and when he pulled her down on top of him she was laughing too.

_This _was exactly her point, she told him. How was she supposed to finish her packing if he was always diverting her from her task? Admitting defeat, he kissed her nose and then slapped her bum, telling her to hurry up and get on with it so they could get to more interesting matters.


	58. 5th January, 1999

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

5th January, 1999

Gryffidor Common Room

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Dear Ron

Here we are again. I feel a bit foolish writing, when I know full well that in a few hours I'm going to speak to you through the mirror – but I miss the letters, and it's nice to have something solid to look back on.

The trip back to Hogwarts was ... interesting. A couple of Hufflepuff first-years got into a fight with a group of third year Slytherin's. Naturally a few Gryffindor's and Ravenclaw's got involved ... and the whole thing was a great big mess.

Honestly Ron, I really hate that there is such ill-feeling between Slytherin and the other houses. Didn't anyone learn ANYTHING in the last few years?

Neville and I decided that because it was on the train, term really hadn't started. We've told the lot of them that we'll be keeping an eye on them from now on, and that we wouldn't hesitate to report them to their heads of house if we heard even a hint of a repeat performance. I don't know how much attention the other kids payed to us, but I know the Gryffindor boys all like Neville ... so hopefully it'll be OK in the end.

I don't really have much else to say yet. The beginning of term feast was lovely, as always, and tomorrow we start on our classes again.

I'll send this now, and you should get it by morning tea.

I miss you,

Love

Hermione


	59. 6th January, 1999

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

6th January, 1999

WWW "Break Room" (yeah, that's what he's calling it – it's still the cellar, if you ask me)

My Knee! I can talk to you at night AND get a letter in the morning? Wicked! I hope you're having a good first day back at classes. I'll bet they're getting really serious about the NEWTS and you'll have piles of homework tonight.

Do you think we'll be able to hold two completely different conversations over the letters and the mirror? Let's see if it works.

About what happened on the train. I'm not surprised at all. There's been bad feeling between Slytherin and everyone else for centuries. It's not going to stop overnight, and it's probably even worse than it used to be before all the Voldemort stuff happened. And let's face it; a lot of them are bloody wankers. I suppose the Death Eaters kids haven't gone back, but that doesn't mean everyone's going to forget what happened with The Carrows and Snape last year (yes, I know, Snape turned out good, that's not my point), and from what Ginny told me the Slytherin kids were the only ones who didn't suffer for it.

Anyway, what do you mean "a couple" of first year Hufflepuffs and and "a group" of third year Slytherins? That's just not on. I mean, it's not like the Hufflepuffs are all a bunch of tigers or anything, and first years are tiny even if they are mouthy little shits.

And my time is up. I'll send this at lunch.

I love you, Hermione

Ron

* * *

_And that's it for the day. :-)_


	60. The Hogs Head

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

The Hogs Head

* * *

Aberforth glared the last group of warlocks out of the door and locked it behind them.

Taking his usual place behind the bar; he picked up his grotty old rag and randomly chose a glass, taking his time to polish it carefully before he finally spoke.

"So where's your girly then? On the rag or something?"

The figure he addressed shrugged beneath his black, hooded cloak. "Something like that."

"You broke up?" Aberforth probed as he poured out a generous measure of firewhiskey for each of them.

"Nah." The figure made to thow a galleon on the bar, but Aberforth shook his head. "We're alright," the figure added suddenly. "I just had to get out for a bit."

"Right ... right." Aberforth tapped his glass on the bar and pursed his lips. "This has to stop, son. You've been in here every other night this week."

"You saying you don't want my money?"

"Don't be stupid," Aberforth snorted, "but if you don't talk about what's got you so wound up it'll eat you alive."

"Will it now?" The figure sounded amused. "You'd know, would you?"

Aberforth narrowed his eyes and seemed to chew on the inside of his cheek before throwing back his firewhiskey in one gulp. "I know what I'm talking about."

"Sorry. You going to tell them I've been coming?"

"No fear." Aberforth gave a dry chuckle. "McGonagall would have my guts for garters if she knew I was letting you in here at all. Better here than somewhere else, anyway. At least I can keep an eye out."

"Yeah, thanks." The figure stood up slowly. "I better get back before someone notices I've gone."

"Think about what I said," Aberforth told the figure as they went up the stairs and into his private sitting room.

"Yeah, don't hold your breath," the figure muttered and pulled Arianna's portrait to one side, "but I'll think about it. Thanks Ab."

"Take care of yourself, sonny." Aberforth watched the figure clamber up into the passage way and disappear into the dark. "What do you think?" He addressed his sister. "Should I let it go, or do I get myself involved?"


	61. Night

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

Night.

* * *

Ron could hear Hermione's light, even breathing through the mirror. He couldn't see anything, no matter how hard he stared. It was black as pitch. Still, he knew she was there and that was good.

He couldn't sleep though, which was a bit of a problem ... especially because he had to be up in a few hours for an early breakfast and then straight to work.

A cup of tea probably wasn't the best idea at that time of night, but at least it was something to do. He didn't bother tip-toeing on the way down to the kitchen; he was the only one left at home now that Harry was back at Auror training, and his Mum and Dad only woke up if there was a racket.

Cradling his favourite mug in both hands, he stared out the kitchen window. Even the gnomes and fairies had called it a night. It was so quiet that he could hear the gurgle of the river.

He contemplated going outside for a bit, but decided against it. It was a bit cold.

"You going to just stand there all night or what?"

"SHIT!" Ron nearly dropped his mug and whipped around to glare at Fred's Portrait. "You trying to give me a heart attack or something?"

"Sorry," Fred sniggered, not looking particularly repentant. "How would you prefer to me to announce myself?"

"I don't know," Ron retorted, "you could have coughed first or something. What are you doing here anyway? You're usually at George's overnight."

"Yes well." Fred smirked. "George and Angelina are _busy _at the moment."

"Busy?" Ron raised his eyebrows. "So that's what the kids are calling it these days? The shop wasn't far enough away then?"

"No." Fred said bluntly. "Oh! Geooooorge!" he cried in a high pitched tone, "OOOOOH! GEEEEORGE!"

"Shut it!" Ron smothered a laugh. "You'll wake Mum and Dad!"

"It's worse than that," Fred snorted and deepened his voice. "Angie! ANGIE! Oh god AAAAANGIEEEEE!"

"Ugh." Ron shuddered. "I think I've heard enough."

"Hence, why I am here." Fred looked at the mug in Ron's hands enviously. "What I wouldn't give for a cup of tea."

"You get thirsty?" Ron finally sat at the table and looked up curiously.

"Nope. I don't get hungry, either," Fred told him, "I just feel like it."

"Hmm." They fell silent for a few moments. "There's that painting with the fruit and flowers in the front room," said Ron. "Why don't you see if you can grab an apple or something?"

Fred disappeared out of view for a few seconds and then slid back into his frame holding an apple and a banana. "Didn't really want the roses," he grinned and took and experimental bite of the apple. "It's alright," he shrugged, "like apple flavoured kids paint."

"Better than a wand in the eye," Ron suggested and then brightened. "Leave it with me."

"Leave what with you, Ronniekins?"

"Hermione did this thing, while we were ... camping," Ron looked unhappy for a moment, but seemed to shake himself out of it. "She had the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black in her bag -"

"Who?" Fred interrupted, settling down to lean his elbows on his frame.

"Sirius' great great grandfather or something," Ron said vaguely, "you know the one, his portrait was at Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts."

"That grumpy old codger with the pointy beard?"

"Yeah, him." Ron nodded. "Anyway, she used a charm to put a blind-fold over his eyes when she took his portrait out. He couldn't get it off either. I'll ask her how she did it."

"Ear plugs might be the better option," Fred sniggered.

"Oh, haha. The point was maybe I can put something in there for you."

"You think you're up to that?" Fred looked sceptical.

"I think I could manage," said Ron dryly. "George has taught me a lot."

Fred tilted his head to one side and studied Ron carefully. "The way I hear it, it was the other way around."

"Bollocks," Ron snorted, tapping his mug for a refill.

"I don't think so." Fred's voice took on an unusually soft edge. "I know everything."

"Everything about what?" Ron looked curious.

"Everything about everything," Fred chuckled.

"How?"

"I don't know how," Fred admitted, "I just do."

"Can I ask you something?" Ron flushed, but kept his gaze steady.

"Sure." Fred shrugged. "Doesn't mean I'm going to tell you."

"What's it _like_? Don't you get bored? Are you really, well, you?"

Fred was silent and took his time in peeling the painted banana. "Yeah, I'm me ... feels weird though," he rubbed his fingers together experimentally; "I suppose I feel like paint." He took a bite of the banana and grimaced slightly. "This tastes like banana flavoured paint."

"And?" Ron prompted.

Fred took even longer to answer this time. "I haven't got bored yet ... I sort of ... go ... when no one's around. Or if I don't have a purpose in mind."

"How does that work?"

"I dunno actually," Fred admitted. "It took me a while to even notice. I'd be talking to George and then he'd go to bed, so I'd go have a look around the shop for a while ... next thing I know its hours later and the sun's up. It's a bit weird, to be honest."

"Do you remember ... before?" Ron asked in a hushed voice.

"Before?" Fred shot Ron confused look. "I remember life, if that's what you mean. Otherwise I wouldn't be bothered sitting here talking to you."

"That's not what I mean." Ron frowned. "I suppose I mean between?"

"That's much clearer," Fred mocked. "Spit it out."

"Fine." Ron sighed. "Do remember the time between being killed and then being painted?"

"You ask deep questions grasshopper," Fred said evasively.

"Huh?"

"You need to watch more muggle movies," Fred chuckled, "and you with a muggle-born intended and everything." He laughed at the look on Ron's face. "I told you I know everything!"

"Well you can keep that to yourself, thanks very much," Ron muttered.

"They already know," Fred grinned. "Mum doesn't miss a trick."

"Bloody fucking hell," Ron rubbed his face with his hands. "That's not good. How long have they known?"

"Since the day you gave Hermione the ring, you romantic old dog, you!"

"Shut up," Ron mumbled. "How much trouble are we in?"

"Ooooh, you've got no idea, mate!" Fred laughed.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Ron clutched his hair. "I'd better warn Hermione."

"Oh, relax you stupid git." Fred laughed again. "They're fine ... well, Dad wasn't thrilled at first. Makes him feel old and decrepit, but Mum talked him 'round."

"Mum did?" Ron's eyebrows shot into his hair. "What the hell is going on around here? I thought she was going to have kittens when I told her about Hermione and me moving to Grimmauld Place at the end of the year, but Dad took it really well." He laughed suddenly. "HE thought I'd knocked Hermione up, of all things."

"Well, it looks like you're in the clear for now." Fred told him. "What I'd like to know, though, is what the hell bought it all on?"

"Bought what on?" Ron looked blank.

"This new and improved responsible Ron," Fred clarified. "I can hardly even wind you up anymore. What the hell is going on?"

Ron shrugged. "You know, stuff."

"Stuff?" Fred looked put out. "What stuff?"

"You said you know everything," Ron challenged, a slight smile crossing his face, "you tell me."

"OK fine." Fred huffed impatiently. "I don't know EVERYTHING, as such. I just hear a lot and know how to put two and two together. Happy?"

"Yup."

"The stuff?" Fred leaned forward. "Come on, you can tell me."

"There's nothing to tell," Ron said bluntly. "I love her, she loves me -"

"Has someone checked her for brain damage?" Fred cut in.

"Do you want that cup of tea or not?"

"OK, sorry. Go on. You love her, and she loves you ..." Fred prompted, attempting to look angelic.

"And that's all there is," said Ron. "It's not that complicated."

"Right." Fred looked sceptical. "OK then. What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," said Ron promptly.

"Why not?"

"No reason," Ron shrugged, "it happens sometimes."

"Not lately though," Fred suggested. "I've been here a fair bit over the last couple of weeks. George and Angelina have been at it like you wouldn't believe."

"Yeah, well, Hermione was around, wasn't she?" Ron sighed.

"Aaaah. So you were otherwise occupied."

Ron just nodded.

"So what's on your mind?"

"Do you LIKE being in that portrait?" Ron asked suddenly. "Or would you rather have been left alone?"

"Nah, it's good." Fred said promptly. "It's not the same as being there, but it's pretty close and at least I can keep an eye on you lot."

"What about before you were painted? Could you see us or what?"

"I dunno. I suppose I must have done, because nothing came as a surprise to me when I was painted ... but I really can't remember."

"So it's like you've been split in two?" Ron asked. "So now one of you is here and the other is ... wherever you are?"

"It must be something like that." Fred looked thoughtful. "I'll tell you the weirdest thing, when I was being painted. It started out as an outline, right? So I could hear little bits and pieces of conversation – mostly Dad and Harry, and as I was filled in I could hear more and more."

"Really? That's really ... it must have been weird."

"I just said that, didn't I?" Fred scoffed. "It was a bit frustrating too, especially at the end, because I wanted to talk but it wouldn't work until there were enough layers ... and then I couldn't talk properly until my face was finished."

"I'll bet you were a right pain in the arse," Ron said, "who painted you?"

"Uhhhh ... an old guy, had an accent ... Oleg Levanov. Ever heard of him?"

Ron shook his head slowly. "Doesn't ring a bell. Is he in Diagon Alley?"

"Yeah, he is," Fred nodded. "Nice bloke. Likes a bit of a drink. Says he's getting on a bit, and he's looking around for an apprentice to train up for when he drops of the perch."

"He told you that?" Ron laughed.

"Why not?" Fred shrugged. "He lives on his own, who else has he got to talk to beside his work?"

"Wow. That's ... really depressing actually." Ron refilled his mug yet again. "No family?"

"His wife died about 20 years ago, apparently, and they didn't have any kids. So if you know anyone ..."

"I'll ask around," Ron nodded.

"Hang on a minute," Fred's head disappeared from the side of his frame and then reappeared a moment later. "They've finally stopped," he heaved a sigh of relief.

"Blimey," Ron looked slightly revolted but also faintly impressed, "that's more than I ever needed to know about George and Angelina's staying power."

"You and me both mate," Fred shuddered elaborately, and then smiled a far gentler smile than he ever had in life. "Go to bed, Ron. George had a new idea last night, and he's going to work you and Lee like dogs today."

"Did he?" Ron smiled too. "That's good." Standing from the table, he let his mug float to the sink and they both watched it wash itself and then put it away. "See you at breakfast, Fred."

"Yeah, see you at breakfast," Fred agreed. "It's been nice talking to you."

"You too."

oOo

Ron slid quietly into bed and listened carefully for Hermione's light even breathing. "How long have you been awake?" he whispered.

"Only a couple of minutes," her voice floated toward him. "Crookshanks."

"Ah." Ron stifled a yawn. "Wanted to go out or come in?"

"Go out," he heard her yawn too. "On the up side," she murmured, "at least now I've got my blankets back. He's even worse than you."

Ron half laughed and turned onto his side, facing the mirror despite the fact he still couldn't see anything. "Sorry."

"That's quite alright," she told him. "Where did you get off too anyway? Are you not sleeping again?"

"Just having a chat with Fred," said Ron. "I'm alright, just had a bit of trouble switching my brain off. Nothing a cup of tea didn't fix. Go back to sleep, and I'll see you in the morning."

"OK." She yawned again and he could tell from just one word that she was already half-way gone. "Love you."

He listened to her breathing change back to that of sleep, now not so far away from it himself.

_A brother in a portrait and a girlfriend in a mirror. Better than nothing at all, I suppose. _"Love you too."

* * *

_That's it for a couple of days. I've got a couple of projects I need to sort out for school._

_*insert broken record here* The reviews are fab! Thanks heaps for letting me know if you're enjoying it and such!_


	62. The Snatchers

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

The Snatchers

(24 Hours Before Malfoy Manor)

* * *

It wasn't so bad, until the weather had started to get cold. They'd eventually had to resort to scavenging for food. The goblins seemed to cope better, happy to live off roots and bits of raw meat ... and it became a bone of contention that the wizards insisted on cooking.

The wizards had to admit that the goblins were right; the smoke from the fire was bound to attract unwanted attention, so they kept on the move.

By the dead of winter, though, even the goblins were willing to accept the fire with good grace.

Then they'd found the cave. It was small and cramped, but by that point they didn't care. It was shelter, and that's all they needed.

The best thing about the cave was that there was only one way in.

They hid there for months, and in the meantime formed a dysfunctional, tetchy sort of family. They started talking to each other, found common ground and the mutual dependence started to grate less. They all hoped for a time when the war would be over, wizard and goblin alike, and even went so far as to dream aloud of the things they'd do when it was.

"He's a half blood, you know."

"Who? Voldemort?"

They didn't know about The Taboo.

The worst thing about the cave was that there was only one way out.

Dirk was cut down, trying to protect them. His last act was screaming at them to run - and run they did, but Gronuk was old and couldn't keep up the pace. He fell behind, captured. They doubled back, the worst thing they could possibly have done. The only thing they could possibly have done.

It was Greyback, in the end. A leer on his face, as he sniffed obscenely at Dean. Wondering aloud if he should turn him, fuck him or eat him ... perhaps all three. A bellow of rage, followed by an act of ridiculous, desperate bravery and Ted Tonks was dead.

They were made to watch, their eyes frozen open, as his body was torn to pieces and devoured on the spot.

Griphook and Dean knew hope was lost to them, as Greyback picked clean his teeth with Ted's bones. All they could wish was that death would come quickly.


	63. 18th January, 1999

Standard disclaimers apply!

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

18th January, 1999.

* * *

Dear Hermione,

Just a quick note to let you know the trial of Dolores Umbridge is scheduled for Monday next week, 25th January.

Arthur and I have tried our utmost to ensure that you don't have to come in and give evidence, but The Wizengamot is still unconvinced. I'm sending a note to Headmistress McGonagall to give her a heads up, because you may be called at quite short notice.

Regardless of that, it's thanks to you that there's such a strong case against her. Be proud of yourself!

Regards

Kingsley


	64. The Muggle Born Register

Standard Disclaimers Apply.

I do not own Harry Potter. I have nothing to do with Scholastic, Warner Bros or Bloomsbury. I'm not JKR and I am certainly not making any profit out of this.

* * *

The Muggle Born Register

* * *

ABBOTT, Wilfred

AINSWORTH, Olivia

ALDOUS, Isabella

ALDERTON, William

ALLEN, Lachlan

ALFORD, Emily

ANDREWS, Thomas

ANGOVE, Nancy - at large, non appearance at hearing

ARUNDELL, Oliver

ARCHER, James

ARNALL, Mary

ASTLE, Robert

ASHBURNER, Helen

ASHFIELD, John

ATWOOD, Richard

AUDGER, Patricia

AUNGER, Caroline

BARLOW, Charles

BARNSLEY, David

BARNUM, Judith

BARRELL, Thomas

BARRETT, Betty

BARTLETT, Nancy

BASSET, Donald - at large, non appearance at hearing

BARNEY, Ronald

BATEMAN, Maria

BATTLE, Joseph

BELLINGHAM, Kenneth

BEESON, Geralddeceased, Dorset

BERRYMAN, Linda

BICKLE, Shirley

BICKERTON, Michael

BINGE, Cassandra

BLACKALL, Paul

BLACKBURN, Joyce - at large, non appearance at hearing

BLAKE, Edward

BLANCHARD, Joan

BLIGH, Dorothy

BLOOR, Francis

BOME, Gary

BORTON, Elizabeth

BOTTRELL, Walter

BOUNSELL, Janice

BRACEGIRDLE, Harold

BRADMAN, Helen

BRADSHAW, Virginia

BRANSCOMBE, David

BRASSEY, Michael

BREADMORE, Janet

BRENT, Donna

BREWER, John

BROWN, Sharon - at large, non appearance at hearing

BROAD, James

BROKENSHIRE, Judy

BUNT, Marilyn

BURNHAM, Robert - at large, illegally released by Harry Potter

BUNT, Mark

BUTTON, William

CARBIS, Martha

CARPENTER, Jean

CARTER, Richard

CATCHPOLE, Gloria

CATTERMOLE, Mary - at large, illegally released by Harry Potter

CESLEY, Charles

CHELLEW, Jeffrey

CHENNEUOR, Dagmar - at large, illegally released by Harry Potter

CLARIDGE, Frances

CLEALL, Daniel

CLEAER, Ruth

CLEMENTS, Karen

CLEMOWE, Joseph

CLIFTON, Alice - at large, non appearance at hearing

CLOGG, Timothy

COADE, Beverly

COLLICOTT, Phyllis

COLLINGS, Paul

COGSWELL, Rose

COOMBE, Susan

CORNISHE, Brian

CROOK, Colin

CULLIP, Karen

CUNDY, Lisa - at large, illegally released by Harry Potter

DAVY, William

DAVIS, Linda

DENTON, James

DEW, Robert

DONEY, Cynthia

DONITHORN, Sandra

DOWLING, Joseph

DUNN, Brenda

DUTTON, Laura

EADE, Frank

EDDY, Herbert

EDYVEAN, Teresa - at large, non appearance at hearing

ELLERY, Patience

EPLETT, Henry

EXTER, Cheryl

FENN, Sharon

FIDDICK, Robert

FORD, William

FOSBERRY, Kathy - at large, non appearance at hearing

FRAD, David

FRANCIS, Denise

FRY, Thomas - at large, illegally released by Harry Potter

GERRANS, Kimberly

GERRE, Peter

GIBSON, Debbie

GIBBS, Michael

GOSSETT, Adam

GOSWICK, Maria - deceased

GRIBBLE, Brian

GRIGG, Kathleen

GRILLETT, Dianne

GUMMOW, Frank

GRUNDY, Margaret

HADLEY, Angela

HALLS, Lachlan

HALL, Janice

HANCOCK, Ronald - at large, non appearance at hearing

HANSFORD, Ruby

HARLOW, Joe

HARRIE, Emily

HARRIS, Grace

HARVEY, Andrew

HASTINGS, Jessica

HATT, George

HAWKE, Lily

KELSBY, Arthur

HEAL, Amelia

HENDER, Allan

HENDERSON, Rolf

HENWOOD, Charlotte

HINSHAW, David - at large, non appearance at hearing

HOCKING, Lucy

HOCKINS, Michael

HODDY, Megan

HODDNETT, John

HOLLISTERS, James

HOLLOW, Matilda

HOLMAN, Isabella - at large, non appearance at hearing

HOOPER, Kathryn

HORNBLOW, Percival - at large, illegally released by Harry Potter

HOARE, Holly

HOSKING, Robert

HOUSLEY, Millie

HUMPHREY, Ellery - at large, non appearance at hearing

HUNTER, Poppy

HUNTSMAN, Erin

HUNGERFORD, Hannah

HURKETTS, Timothy

HURRELL, Paul

HURST, Emma

IVEY, Donald

JAMES, Thomas - at large, non appearance at hearing

JENKIN, Molly

JERMYN, Oliver

JOLLY, Imogen

JULIAN, Harry

KEARNS, Jack

KEAST, Amy

KEPTHORNE, James

HERFOOT, Jasmine

KETTLE, William - at large, non appearance at hearing

KING, Isla

KITTO, Scarlett

KITTS, Samuel

KNEEBONE, Sophia

LADD, Daniel

LANGDON, Elisabeth

LAWRENCE, Charles

LEE, Benjamin

LEVERTON, Brooke

LIBBY, Keira

LINNINGTON, Alfred

LLOYD, Alice

LOBB, Joseph - at large, illegally released by Harry Potter

LUSH, Amber

LYDON, Callum

MACEY, Isabel

MADDERN, Jake

MAUDSLEY, Lauren

MARFLEET, Alfie - deceased, Kent

MAY, Libby

MEEK, Alexander

MITCHELL, Anna

MORRIS, Harvey

MOSES, Rebecca

MOTTERSHEAD, Maxwell

MOYLE, Liam

NEEDHAM, Rosie

NEILD, Sarah

NICHOLLS, Matthew

NINNIS, Alisha

NOALL, James - at large, non appearance at hearing,

NORTHEY, Nicole - at large, non appearance at hearing,

NOTLEY, Liam - deceased, Yorkshire

NOYES, Faith

OLIVER, Leo

OGBOURNES, Martha

OLFORD, Harriet

OLIVEY, Harrison

OVERTON, Ben

O'TOOLE, Connor

PALLISER, Owen

PARKING, Julia

PARNELL, Nathan - at large, non appearance at hearing,

PASCOE, Lydia

PAULL, Henry

PAULIN, Evelyn

PAYNTER, Archibald

PEARCE, Alexandra

PEDLAR, Edward

PENALUNA, Maria

PECK, Tilly

PEARSE, Rhys

PHELPS, Florence

PHILLIPS, Brendon

PLATT, Alicia

PLUMMER, Esme

POLINGHORNE, Kieran

POPE, Robert

POVEY, Grace

POWELL, Frances - at large, illegally released by Harry Potter

PURR, John

PRIESTNALL, Emily - at large, non appearance at hearing,

PRIDEAUCE, Ashton

PUMMILL, Hazel

RATHBORNE, Aidan

REEVE, Jessica

RICHMOND, Elliot

ROOK, Hannah

ROSSER, Sean

RUSSELL, Abigail

SANDERS, Andrew

SANSOM, Gabriel

SAWFORD, Daisy

SAWYER, Freya - at large, non appearance at hearing

SLATTERS, Ryan

SPINKS, Victoria - deceased, Yorkshire

STILLMAN, James

SMYTHE, Lucy

SNELLING, Callum

SOLLIS, Ellie

SPENCER, Cameron

STUDLEY, Daniel - deceased, Glasgow

SONES, Eilidh

STOKES, Liam

SWANBOROUGH, Skye

TEAGUE, Matthew

TONGE, Finlay

TRUELOCK, Rachel

TRUSSELL, Adam

TUBB, Beth

TYLER, Alexander

TELLAM, Andrew

TEVERSHAM, Elizabeth

THAYER, Ben

THORNBER, Connor

TREADWAY, Melissa

THURMAN, Thomas

TRASK, Orla - at large, non appearance at hearing

TROWBRIDGE, Natalie

TRUSCOTT, Luke

TUCK, Rhianna

UNSWORTH, Nathan

URRY, Katie

UTTING, Charlie

VACHER, Mary

VARCOE, Grace

VARLEY, Ethan

VOSS, Aidan

WALKER, Simon - at large, illegally released by Harry Potter

WALTER, Sophia

WHIPPLE, Fraser

WHITAKER, Frances - at large, non appearance at hearing

WHITTINGHAM, Anna

WILLSON, Aoife

WILLIS, Sean

WINTERS, Carla

WOLSTENHOLME, Harry

WRIGLEY, Owen - at large, non appearance at hearing

WYLEY, Millie

YEOMAN, Rory - deceased, Dorset


	65. Unregistered Known Muggle Borns

Standard Disclaimers!

* * *

Un-registered Known Muggle Borns At Large

* * *

ANEAR, James

ANGIER, Charlotte

ASHFORD, William - - last known to be living in Cornwall

ATKEY, Barbara

BACKETT, George - - captured, Cheshire

BEDDOWS, Margaret

BELL, Lawrence

BLYTH, Raymond - - captured, Somerset

BOASE, Ellen

CATLEY, Thomas

CASWELL, Steven

CAWSE, Doris

CESSWELL, Dirk - - deceased, Cornwall

COX, Gary

COLLICOTT, Darren

CRAIB, Anthony

CRAGOE, Alfred

DUNNING, Charles

DURRANT, Pamela - - deceased, Yorkshire

DUNTON, Edward

EDGAR, Susan

EDGECOMBE, Yvette

EDWARDS, Nancy - - captured, Dorset

FINCH-FLETCHLEY, Justin

FISHER, John

FLETCHER, Elizabeth

GILBERT, Robin

GODDINGS, Mary

GOLDSWORTHY, Simon

GOODY, Susan

GRANGER, Hermione - - last seen in the company of Weasley family - close ties to Potter - - last seen in London - - captured in Hants - - escaped, Wiltshire

HAMBELY, Matthew - - deceased, Northumberland

HAMMERSLEY, Donald

HAMMOND, Olivia

HOLLINGSWORTH, Verity - - last known to be employed by members of the Weasley family

HOWARD, John

HUGO, Daisy

MARKS, Georgina

MARLOW, Eleanor - - captured, Cork - - deceased, London

MARTYN, Luke

MASSEY, Beth

MASSIE, Richard - - captured, Surrey

MATTHEWS, Isobel

OBSOURNE, Eve

PENHALE, Francesca - - captured, Somerset

PERRY, Neil

PETERS, Michael

SCOVELL, Ewan

SHERGOLD, Emma - - captured, Norfolk

SHERMAN, Lewis

SHIPSEY, Jack

SILCOX, Erin

THOMAS, Dean - - captured, Cornwall - - escaped, Whiltshire

TREMBATH, Carl

TONKS, Ted - - deceased, Cornwall

TOOKER, David

TRIVETT, Samantha

WHITTINGTON, Oliver

WILLIAMS, Rhys

WORRALL, Antoinette

WORSHAM, Ronald - - deceased, Hants

* * *

Under Suspicion

* * *

CREEVEY, Colin

CREEVEY, Denis - - Alleged cousins of Pureblood PEAKES, Jimmy. Elladora PEAKES, member of the Wizengamot, swears before the court that

Sally Creevey, mother of the Creevey boys, is her illegitimate child from a "Summer Fling" in 1968.

GLANVILLE, Christopher - - Alleged nephew of Minerva McGonagall, illegitimate child of her late sister.

HENDERSON, Liam - - Aberforth Dumbledore claims Liam is his bastard son.

HUISH, Phoebe - - Kingsley Shacklebolt claims Phoebe is the daughter of his later brother, Winston.

WHITWORTH, Emily - - Alleged second cousin of Susan Bones.


End file.
